As It Should Be: A Spuffyverse AU
by AxisA
Summary: A BTVS "Season 8" AU Adventure - Not a 'sunshine-and-puppies' Spuffy story, but lots of Spuffy love! Spike and Buffy's post-Sunnydale story, set in a fictional 'Season 8' world. Scooby gang fun, fans of Angel beware! Pairings: S/B, W/? *I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS, AND IN NO WAY PROFIT FROM THIS FANFIC!* Rated M-ish (nothing worse than already seen on the show!)
1. Alone in Cleveland

_**Disclaimer: **__I somewhat refuse to watch the whole 'Angel' spin-off (I just don't enjoy Angel as a character!), so please forgive any mistakes that stem from my stubbornness! I did, however, watch enough to find myself very frustrated by Spike's apparent lack of motivation to go find Buffy once he can (totally out-of-character for him!). So, this is basically my little 'INSTEAD' option for Spike's post-resurrection story… because we never really do get a proper ending for them in the shows! To sum up, I'm wholeheartedly ignoring anything and everything that happens in Angel, particularly Angel Season 5. Welcome to my AU!_

'_I love you' Buffy's voice was a small whisper, her eyes wide and glassy._

'_No you don't… but thanks for saying it' Spike's own eyes sparkled with solemn clarity. His death was coming, his long struggle was nearly over._

_Another sudden quake in the splitting earth broke the spell of the moment, as more of the cavern began to collapse, snapping Buffy back to the destruction at hand. Her hand left his on instinct, as her walls shot up and her body readied for a fight._

'_Now GO!' Spike commanded, and she moved to obey him. Her feet had hit the second step, when her screaming heart finally overpowered her instinct. Flinging herself backwards, she pulled Spike to face her, wrapping herself around him, desperate to feel his closeness one last time. _

'_Yes I do, you idiot, yes I do!' Buffy choked out the words between gasps, and felt Spike pull her impossibly close, returning her embrace in answer. As he opened his mouth to speak, flames consumed them both from every meeting of their bodies. Buffy felt the heat of them, but no physical pain, only the shattering agony as Spike crumbled into dust between her arms._

Buffy woke up with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, struggling to catch her breath. Her throat was tight, but she had no tears, as if she had somehow used them up within her restless, repetitive dreams.

Pulling herself out of bed was the best way to shake them off; she had learned this lesson well throughout the past few months. Walking to the adjoining bathroom, she splashed her face with icy water. Glancing at the mirror, she met her own eyes without meaning to - the dim light from the streetlamp outside emphasizing the heavy circles under her empty eyes, the oil clinging to her dull, stringy hair. She looked nothing like herself these days.

'_My little Goldilocks… you know I love this hair, the way it bounces around -'_

Buffy shook her head hard, pushing her palms against her eyelids as if that could keep out the memory of his voice. She felt pathetic. Her thoughts, her dreams, her existence was overrun by him, and there was no one she could talk to about it, not really. Her best friends had lost too much themselves to truly understand; they seemed to look at her with a sense of weary exasperation when they noticed any sign of her near-constant wallowing. They had lost family, and partners, and what was Spike to her, really? Not a partner, not a boyfriend, not even really an ex… He was a man (if that) that she shared a complicated past with; so much hurt on both sides. He had loved her, pined for her, but even to the bitter end she had never fully allowed him to truly join her in her life, so what had she really lost, compared to the others?

Pining. She understood some parts of him better now. '_But I want you to know I did save you,' his voice had been soft, loving, in his confession. 'Not when it counted of course, but after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again… do something different, faster, more clever… Dozens of times, lots of different ways… Every night I save you.'_

With a deep sigh, Buffy realized that she was doing it too. Her dream that night had been a reoccurring, lucid nightmare for her of late - she always tried to change the events of that day in her dreams. But even in her imagination, where everything was possible, she couldn't bring herself to save his life, not at the cost of the others. Her possible happiness and his worldly existence were not worth a possible victory for the First, they both knew it. All she could do, even in her dreams, was try harder to make him believe her. The hardest part of losing him, even now, was the thought that he believed himself dying for unrequited love.

Shaking her head again, she pulled herself away from her tattered reflection, gliding back towards her cramped bedroom. The first rays of sunlight were starting to glitter in through the icy windows. Buffy had settled with the others at first in Cleveland, but despite the efforts of her friends, had established a somewhat isolated existence. She lived in a small one-bedroom apartment in a tall, dilapidated building on the east side of town. A rougher neighborhood surrounded her unusually quiet building, which worried the others, but as Buffy wryly observed, just lessened her commute to find trouble. She had even bent her rules a tad when it came to harming humans, giving a few of the petty criminals she had run into on her patrols a good smacking around to discourage their reappearance in her part of town.

Giles was the only one of their little group of survivors that had noticed the intensity of her grief, and her mental exhaustion, immediately. As Buffy began to drift, he had offered, which was gratefully accepted, to help care for Dawn. Over the summer the two of them had become very close; Giles bittersweetly enjoying his reprisal of the fatherly role he had once adopted as her own Watcher, and Dawn quietly adoring having an adult to look after her again. Buffy's cramped one-bedroom apartment that initially began just as a place to sleep and recover after a rough patrol became her sole residence in September, when Giles had been called back to London to head up the recovery of the Watcher's council. Up to that point, his beautiful 4-bedroom townhome that had once belonged to a fellow Watcher (another victim of the Bringers) had been the primary home for Buffy, Dawn, and Willow as well - but the sisters had already begun to drift apart. When Giles had offered to allow Dawn to finish school in London, joining him at his magnificent country home, Willow and Dawn both jumped gratefully at the chance. Willow re-entered the English coven, her newfound power establishing her quickly as a clear leader. Xander and Andrew already awaited them in London, Xander having been assigned a couple months prior to the conversion of an old Catholic school in London into the Summers' Academy, Andrew tagging along as his otherwise-lost roommate.

Dawn quickly fell in love with her new placement at the Academy, a private, all-girls school established for the Potentials, young Slayers and a few future Watchers, educating them in both the conventional and the supernatural efficiently and under the supervision of the few surviving Watchers. Willow had even gotten to reprise her teaching role, finally finding a happy medium with which to use magicks in a constructive manner. She taught 'nature magic', 'Wicca history', and computer sciences, Giles joking frequently that the latter of which was also magic to him, even as he begrudgingly explored Willow's ever-expanding virtual library of the supernatural. Andrew began aiding them as an assistant in Willow's computer science class, but realized he had found his talent, splitting off soon after to teach his own classes in the Maths and Sciences department, and taking over for Giles as teacher of the Demonology elective as Giles's other responsibilities grew.

Dawn's calling as a future Watcher drew her even closer to Giles as a father figure, leaving Buffy with a faint jealousy but overwhelming gratitude that Dawn finally had a proper parent to care for her. Little did Giles know, but Dawn was planning to present to him in two short weeks with a Christmas present he wouldn't forget: a legal adoption certificate, completed but for his final signature. Buffy had felt a faint sting at that, but she understood the reasoning and emotion behind it, and had helped her little sister arrange the details. She knew it would mean the world to Giles.

To his credit, Giles had tried fervently to prevent Buffy from cutting herself off as she had, begging her repeatedly to accompany them to England, as a counselor again, as a trainer, as anything he thought would tempt her, to no avail. She simply watched them leave, one by one, feeling an odd sense of cathartic relief as her friends and family drifted away from her. She simply didn't know how to act around any of them anymore.

Now, loneliness and the bitter cold air began to seep into her bones as she crawled back under the covers to await the daylight. Needing to hear a voice, any voice, she picked up the phone and dialed the first number that popped into her head.

"Buffy?" the deep voice at the other end was layered with surprise and the thick fog of interrupted sleep.

"Hi, Angel" she whispered.

"Buffy…" She could hear the bedsheets tugging around him as he sat up in bed. "Not that I'm not loving this surprise, but it's 2AM here - is there something you need?"

Buffy swallowed. "I need to get out of here. I can't be here by myself anymore…" she shivered, Angel's irritation softening at the desperation in her voice. "I'm going crazy, alone with my thoughts... Angel, please tell me there is something I can help you with in LA... anything, I just need to spend some time out of Cleveland for awhile."

The small hope Angel had of her call holding romantic intentions died quietly. This was a favor from colleague-to-colleague, nothing more.

"Angel?"

"Sorry, I'm here." He paused, running through his current projects in his head. "I do actually have one thing… I was tempted to call you to get your take on it yesterday, but I didn't want to bother you."

"Bother me, please. I need to be bothered!" Buffy's voice sounded somewhat like her normal self.

"Well, we have a vampire gang here that seems to be making a habit of harassing Wolfram and Hart buildings, as well as teaming up with new demons I've never even heard of. We are having a hard time keeping up with them." he said. "Every time we go after them, there's a new cast of uglies protecting their lair, which moves, of course."

Sensing his frustration, Buffy resisted the urge to tease him about his failure to out-maneuver members of his own kind. "I'm in!"

"Really?" pleasure slipped into his voice. "Thank you Buffy, I've gotta say, it's gonna be great to see you, I've missed you."

"I'll be there before you know it!" Running her fingers through her hair, she was reminded of her disheveled appearance, and felt a slight flush of embarrassment, even though her former beau couldn't currently see her. "I'll check flights after a shower, I could be there as early as dinnertime tonight."

A knock on Angel's door startled him, finally reminding him of why he hadn't called Buffy in the first place. "Oh, and Buffy," he said hurriedly, lowering his voice when he said her name, "I would put you up with me, but I my place is a mess this week…bit of a vamp attack gone wrong... I have an account at the airport hotel, I will arrange a room for you there instead, you will be much more comfortable there."

"You got it," Buffy was surprised by his obvious evasion, but took it in stride. _Maybe he was trying to resist temptation? _"I will see you for dinner then, maybe?"

"It's a date," the knock on Angel's door sounded again, louder this time. "I gotta go Buffy, see you soon." He hung up quickly as the door creaked open.

The platinum blonde's voice was raspy and dripping with irritation as he pushed into the room, cocking his head at the larger man, who was still holding the receiver. "Who the bleeding hell are you talking to at this hour?"

"None of your business." snapped Angel. "I thought we agreed this little roommate situation was only going to work if we stayed out of each other's way - do we need to revisit that little agreement?"

"Spoken like a true bloody lawyer," spat Spike bitterly. "I get your hintin', I'll sod right off." The doors slammed behind him as he stormed into the hallway and back into the neighboring bedroom. As his temper started to cool, the thought crossed his mind that Angel's refusal to answer the question could have been more than just a petty protest at the invasion of his privacy. _It could have been… her. _

In the other room Angel breathed deeply, laying down, and finally closing his eyes. He knew he would not be sleeping much for the remainder of the night.


	2. California

The fact that Angel didn't want the two reunited was largely unspoken, and one of the few topics between them that had gone virtually undebated. Moments after Spike's return, his knees had nearly buckled as the thoughts of her flooded his mind for the first time, overwhelmed by his desire to see her, knowing it was possible… He had attempted to lash out at Angel immediately in the confusion, his scrappy nature silently screaming that Angel was the largest roadblock to their reunion; which of course, is how he discovered that he was facing a far larger obstacle.

As Spike grew more used to his situation, he began to feel a small measure of relief that he _couldn't_ follow that initial instinct. By the time he was 'better', physically ready to leave LA, the sobering thoughts started to flood over him: _those last nights I spent with her weren't about love, she thought the world was ending… who wouldn't seek comfort? She confessed her love only as I died, I couldn't handle her admitting to my face that she'd never really meant it... Even if she had meant it… she thought I died to save her, to save them all. If she found out I never truly paid that price… _thinking back, he closed his eyes to dull the pain. _I wasn't worth her love until that moment, and that moment was taken away from me. I'm nothing to her again, I can't be anything. Not after everything I've done. I don't deserve her. _

Angel had taken him in, he knew, out of a combination of pity and a weary self-inflicted responsibility to keep an eye on the younger vampire. There was a look in his eyes these days that made Spike's knuckles flash white when he noticed it; some semblance of a 'older brother' protectiveness and diluted exasperation reminiscent of how Buffy looked at Dawn. He couldn't help but be grateful for it all the same, as he didn't know what else he would do, where else he would go. Souls were a pesky thing, in their way. Any chances he had at making money in the ways he used to get by were gone, if he wanted to stay on the path he had begun, and as a vampire, he couldn't exactly get any old office job. Angel lucked into quite the lucrative gig, and made plenty of money to support them both - even if he did steadfastly refuse to pay for smokes. '_The lease doesn't allow it' my ass... that bloody poof. _Of course, that never stopped him from bumming one here and there when he did head out at night.

Knowing sleep was a joke at this point, Spike shrugged into his jacket and jeans, pushing violently out of his room, and out into the building's main walkway. He'd been a night owl even before his hundred years of nights spent awake, it was only the last few months he'd taken to a somewhat conventional sleep schedule again, due to Angel's insistence on complete silence at night. _Captain Hairgel sure likes his beauty rest for his big-time head honcho gig._

Los Angeles wasn't a silent city, at least, even 'soulful' Spike revelled in the distractions and chaos and noise. When he was sick of Angel's restrictive house rules, he had plenty of places to drift to, several demon bars, human strip joints with worse crowds than the demon bars, and of course, patrolling. Even if Angel found himself somehow above it these days, he himself enjoyed patrolling far more than the other 'entertainment' options available to him. The adrenaline was a high he could never get enough of on the more exciting nights, and even on the quiet ones, he loved how close it made him feel to Buffy. Remembering the nights they spent patrolling together in Sunnydale, the nights he patrolled alone in her honor after her death, even the nights they patrolled with the potentials, as an awkward little teaching team, so much unspoken between them.

Walking into the local cemetery, Spike remembered how he had felt on that particular trainee-patrol, when she had hit him too hard, winding him, and gripped his hand tight as she checked him over for damage. He smiled to himself. _Silly bint never could make up her mind. Hit me or hold me? She never knew. _

The all-too-familiar smell of fresh, wet dirt exposed to air caught his overly sensitive nose, giving him a welcome distraction. Quickly spotting the source a few yards away, he lounged lazily back on a mausoleum, waiting for the newly sired vamp to finish clawing his way out of his grave. Rubbing his fingers together, he bitterly wished for a cigarette, cursing Angel's pettiness under his breath.

Patience was never his strong suit. With an angry sigh, Spike lept towards the hands reaching from the dirt, gripping them by the wrists and yanking them up with force that would have broken bones, had the wrists been human.

"Oooouch!" shrieked the vamp, emerging in full game-face, spitting small bits of dirt from his mouth. "I've had hookers be more tender, goddamnit man!" he rubbed his wrists.

"You'll live, quit your fussing." Spike smirked. "On second thought, your life ended hours ago, and I'm here to dispatch you from this silly little purgatory you've discovered."

The vamp took a wide step back, panic and confusion visible even with his distorted features. Even so, he steeled his jaw, taking a weak protective stance; this one was a fighter.

Spike's excitement bubbled into his swing as he lept towards the newbie, diving into a perfectly balanced forward roll and slamming his foot squarely into his opponent's chest. Stumbling back, the other vamp managed to catch the collar of his coat, taking his attacker down with him, sending them both sprawling into the muddy earth.

"Take that, bitch!" he screamed, his fist colliding with Spike's head. Rolling away triumphantly, he turned to make a run for it, a moment too slowly. Spike pulled the stake from his sleeve, stabbing swiftly with the same motion, and pulling his coat around him as he did so, protecting his eyes and mouth from the dust that was now drifting onto the cemetery ground.

"Take that, bitch." he muttered. Glancing around, he breathed in deeply through his nose, catching absolutely nothing else, to his disappointment. _Slow nights like this, I actually miss that damn Hellmouth. Couldn't Angel have woken me up BEFORE last call? Insensitive prick. _He turned to head back, kicking the ground like a petulant child as he did so. _Not much sleep left to catch before Angel whirls around with that bloody hairdryer, better hurry. _


	3. Earthquake

Buffy grinned at the expression on the bellhop's face as she politely waved away his offer of help, instead tossing the large duffel bag over her shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. '_Slayerness' could be fun, sometimes!_

Angel had chosen well, the hotel was crowded, but beautiful. She had gotten a few wide eyes at the check-in desk when they pulled up the account her reservation was booked under. Buffy could only imagine the odd crowds that Angel had covered rooms for here in the past; from the sounds of it, he had a near-permanent room assigned to his needs. _Poor girl probably thought I might leave a trail of slime or flames behind me! _She nearly giggled out loud, imagining the poor housekeeper's potentially traumatic experiences, _some demons could leave quite a mess behind them!_ A small flash entered her mind of the condemned house she and Spike had once destroyed. _No, no more, time to get ready for dinner with Angel. _

Unable to decide between the only two dresses she owned, Buffy had brought them both. One was soft and long, pale yellow, out of character for her, but it had been a gift from Willow. Despite herself, she had to admit looked amazing with the leather jacket she had bought shortly after her arrival in Cleveland, managing somehow to find one almost exactly like the one Angel had given her years before. _Would that seem like I was here to relive the past? I didn't come here for that._ Grinning wickedly as she glanced at her other dress, she realized that her little black mini-dress could come off even worse. Pulling it on anyway, she admired herself in the mirror. She wasn't sure where Angel wanted to go tonight, and her second option was the more versatile. _Plus,_ she mused, _the shorter skirt won't get so in the way if we hit trouble. _

She hadn't gotten any calls from him at her room's answering machine, no messages at the front desk, no answer at his office, so she decided to pick him up at his place, despite his earlier evasiveness. _Hopefully he didn't forget I was coming! Or worse, chalk it up to a dream?_

When Sunnydale had fallen off the map, Los Angeles had been the first stop for their ragtag little group. Faith and Robin hadn't gotten that far, instead splitting off from the group at the exit for Las Vegas, joking that they had to have earned some good fortune after all that had happened. The rest of the potentials and friends had holed up at Angel's apartment and with his various friends in the city, as more permanent housing arrangements were hurriedly made for those that were unable to return home. Giles and Angel had sprung to action with impressive speed, pairing the displaced survivors off into roommates to ensure that everyone had a companion to recover alongside.

Buffy herself had spent two extra days with Angel at his apartment before following the others to Cleveland, at his insistence. Those extra days were wonderful in their own way, Angel treating her as though she was coming off of a bad flu, bringing her meals in bed, hearing her out when she felt like talking, and most of all, letting her sleep. Even with his kindness and efforts, the distance between them had been palpable, each of them feeling a deep sense of loss, neither of them ready to discuss it with the other. When he had finally driven her to the airport, he held her tight for several minutes, kissed her on the forehead, and bowed to go, silently. She knew he sensed her inner grief at Spike's death, even if he didn't completely understand it. She had promised him during one of their talks to give him a proper explanation, but if she was honest with herself, would never be fully ready to tell Angel how she really felt about the blonde vampire, just as she knew a part of him would never want to hear it. _Some things in this world, there just aren't decent words for._

Reaching Angel's door, she knocked nervously, hoping she wouldn't upset him by showing up unexpectedly. _No answer. _Buffy's hair stood up on the back of her neck. _Someone _was home, she could feel it. She knocked again, louder, more urgently. Soft footsteps could be faintly heard, someone clearly trying to hide their presence. A small flicker of movement was briefly visible through the peephole, and the door flew open, catching her off-guard, her body instinctively taking a fight stance before she nearly collapsed in shock, waves of numbness sweeping through her limbs.

Spike stood in front of her. Spike.

"Slayer," he whispered, reverently. His blue eyes were wide with shock, wide as hers. "Wasn't expecting…" he cursed softly. "You look… stunning."

She reached out, trembling, and put a hand on his cheek. He felt solid, his skin cool. Their eyes locked. "You're real?" she whispered, her hands shaking violently.

He gripped her hands tightly to still them, his fingers moving constantly over hers, to savor as much as to soothe. Despite himself, tears rushed to his eyes, and he swore again. His eyes instinctively went to the floor to hide his shame, but only for a moment, unable to resist the urge to look at her, drink her presence in. Instead he stared openly, feeling another rush of emotions as he realized tears were already falling from her long lashes, running down her cheeks in silent streams.

Buffy slid her hands out of his, still shaking, running her hands up his muscled arms, around the back of his neck. Her whole body shook, and in a simultaneous motion, they pulled towards each other, falling to their knees in a tight embrace. As the door clicked shut, her tears began to flow faster, and she buried herself in his shoulder.

"Buffy," he whispered quietly, after her shaking began to slow. "Buffy..." she looked up at him with wide, shining eyes. He couldn't continue, he didn't even know where he had meant the sentence to end. Her lips trembled, and on instinct, he moved to still them too. Before he could pull himself back, she jumped to meet him, kissing him deeply, emotions spilling out through her movements that he couldn't dare let himself hope were real. She tasted of salt, and… _Buffy. She tastes like… Buffy. _

As her lips met his, Buffy felt like she had in her repeating dreams; on fire, but no pain, only heat. She pulled him in closer, over and over, kissing him with urgency. His body responded in kind, following her lead, pressing themselves together as close as they possibly could. Finally, she broke for air, Spike watching her with wondering, hopeful eyes. Gently leading his body back to her, she tenderly pulled his shirt over his shoulders, and began kissing him everywhere she could reach.

Finally beginning to find confidence in her obvious need, Spike breathed in her scent as her lips traced the many scars on his chest, face, arms. He pulled her back to him again, whispering her name in his head with every kiss. _Buffy… Buffy, Buffy… _Their speed increased, his adrenaline flaming to life. To his shock, her nimble hands found the button of his jeans next, and she pushed them off of his hips with her small heels. Her dress seemed to vanish, neither of them sure who initiated removing it, neither of them caring.

Their cheeks still wet with tears, they lost themselves entirely to their burning need to embrace each other as closely as possible.

"How is this real?" Buffy whispered, finally able to speak. They were sprawled across Angel's living room rug, the fading evening light shining through the window with a soft pink glow. She shivered, and he pulled her to his chest, pulling a blanket from the nearby couch to cover them both. Noticing the couch for the first time, Buffy smiled a little. _We never seem to make it to the bed, do we?_

"I don't know, love" he whispered back. "I'm not entirely convinced yet that it is." His hands roamed her figure, stroking her hips, her breastbone, before settling in her long hair, gently brushing it with his fingers.

At his words, something clicked in Buffy's memory, something important. Sitting up sharply to face him, she cupped his face with her hand. "I love you," she whispered.

"You do?" Incredulous, Spike's eyes danced across her face, scarcely believing it was really her, really those words. "You really mean that?"

"I do."

Spike felt a tingling sensation of incredible warmth spreading through his body. Grinning like a fool, he pulled her back down onto his chest, smiling even wider at the small, happy giggle that escaped Buffy. They both sighed happily, laughter coming from both of them as they both realized the cliché of it all.

Their laughter caught in their throats as the door swung open.


	4. Aftershock

Angel stood in the doorway, his hair mere inches from the top of the doorframe, his broad shoulders seeming to swell larger in his obvious shock and jealousy.

Buffy's cheeks flushed, but the pair remained frozen in their compromising position. Noticing the half-dozen red roses he held, her embarrassment was joined by a flood of guilt, and she dropped her eyes to the floor. She sat up slowly, keeping the blanket over her chest, unable to meet his eyes. "I was coming to find you." she rasped. Behind the blanket, Spike sat up with her, winding a protective arm loosely around her waist in support; he was uncharacteristically silent.

"I was coming home to call you," he shifted his feet. "And… change."

Buffy, with another pang of guilt, noticed his ripped clothing, the touch of blood on his pale blue shirt.

He waved his hand dismissively, a couple rose petals drifting to the floor, seeing the location of her gaze. "I'm fine," he mumbled. "Just work… I had to take care of something on my way..."

The discomfort between them filled the room like smoke. Angel stepped forward to allow the door to close behind him, and nearly stumbled. It was his turn to flush, heat rising in his chest and cheeks as he realized that he had almost tripped over a short black dress and matching bra set, tangled together just shy of the doorway. The heat spread as his eyes roamed the room. Buffy's toes were almost touching Spike's dark-wash jeans, which were still lying in a heap on the floor. Spike's fitted blue shirt was nowhere to be seen. _They certainly didn't waste any time. _

Seeing the other vampire's flashing eyes, Spike's body tensed. Their eyes met, for the first time since Angel had entered the room. Months of tension, frustration, and quippy slights running through each of their minds, the situation they found themselves in now was a poetic culmination of events. "Angel, I -" his voice was soft, but the warning was clear.

Spike was cut off by Angel's sudden bounding step towards him. His fighter's instincts taking over, he jumped to his feet. The blanket getting caught in his grip as he did so. Buffy yelped as she was momentarily uncovered, yanking the blanket back onto herself with all her strength. Now it was Spike who stood, fully uncovered, in full view of them both. Refusing to allow himself to feel any humiliation, he clenched his jaw, and met the other man's gaze with equal ferocity, until Angel's eyes finally dropped to the floor. Smirking at her playfully despite her clear disapproval, Spike took his jeans from Buffy's outstretched hand, stepping into them in graceful motions, his eyes never leaving Angel.

Angel shouldered past him, sinking into the couch, shaking his head. Spike finally turned back to Buffy, who was still curled up on the floor, as small as she could make herself. Still watching Angel out of the corner of his eye, Spike put out a hand, helping her gently to her feet.

"Get your pretty little dress, love" he said quietly. "I'll show you to my room, we'll give you a minute." Glancing back occasionally, he kept his hand on the small of her back as he guided Buffy along protectively, nodding to the room she had slept in during her previous visits. Spike watched the door close behind her, missing her the moment it did, despite the obvious distraction of the large, angry man sitting to his left.

The two men stood glaring at each other for several minutes, Spike again wishing for a cigarette.

"I'd never hurt _her, _you know." Angel's words were laced with venom. The protective glances towards Buffy had not been lost on him.

"I know, Angelus." Spike's voice, in contrast, was even-tempered. A week before, hell, an hour before, he would have let his famous temper run his mouth in a situation such as this. Now, though? He couldn't quite put his finger on how he felt, but his usually wild competitive streak that Angel so frequently triggered was purring contentedly in his chest. _Is this what it feels like to be happy? It's been so long._

Surprised by his rival's rare display of restraint, Angel gritted his teeth, working to regain control of himself. "How… did _this_… happen?"

"You tell me." Spike leaned up against the doorway. "I didn't exactly know she was coming."

"When did she get here?"

Spike smirked, the words out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Oh about thirty, forty minutes ago?"

"You work fast." Angel's knuckles were white.

"Work?" Spike stepped towards him, the purring in his chest morphing into a snarl. "She isn't a job, or a bloody _conquest_. Don't you think for one moment that I love that woman less than you do, you wank-"

"Spike, take a walk." Buffy stepped from the hall, looking hauntingly beautiful in the light that seeped in from the setting sun. Wordlessly, Spike obeyed. He met her eyes questioningly before closing the apartment door, and she smiled at him slightly, attempting to reassure him enough to allow him to leave the two former lovers alone without worry. They had a lot to discuss.

Buffy waited for Angel to speak, but he just looked at her, not knowing where to start, how he wanted to begin their discussion of events.

"How is he here?" she realized finally what she really wanted to discuss.

"The amulet." Angel twisted in his position uncomfortably. "A few months ago… we received it at Wolfram and Hart, with a bit of a stowaway onboard. It had kept him alive… somewhat."

"Months ago? MONTHS?" Buffy's voice was rising with every word. "And you didn't tell me? You knew I was grieving him, you had this giant news, and you DIDN'T TELL ME?" Buffy's volume dropped suddenly. "He didn't… he didn't tell me either. He's been alive for months, and he didn't try to contact me? Why would he do that?"

Spike flung the door wide, stepping back into the room. "Bit too much sun for me still, sweetheart, what did you expect?" he said, responding to her withering look. "Look, I shouldn't have listened, but I need to explain. Please, give me a chance."

She nodded. She needed to hear his explanation just as badly as he needed to give it.

"Buffy I wanted to. Believe me, I wanted to. The first thing I did when I realized I was back, somehow, was holler at Angel that he 'couldn't keep you from me.' I even tried to take a swing at him for good measure." Angel's head bowed briefly in acknowledgement. "But I wasn't… physical… when it brought me back at first; I was like a bloody ghost. I couldn't even smack the smug look off of this prick's face when he started in on me. By the time Peaches here and his crew made me a real boy again, I had gotten into my own head. I was too damn scared to find you."

"Scared? Of WHAT?" Angel caught her eye as he slipped out of the room, Buffy nodded at him gratefully. This wasn't about him.

"C'mon, Buffy… You know why." his voice was somber. "Last time you saw me, you thought the whole damn world was ending. I was scared that… that was all we were. I couldn't handle it, being dragged back to life, and going right back to being your little piece of cold comfort."

Buffy's temper flared, but she felt it fading as she looked at him, the pleading evident in his eyes. _I've been such a bitch_.

"I needed to be _more_ to you. If I couldn't be that, I wanted to stay a hero in your eyes. At least, that's how I hoped you would remember me." He concluded his speech with a gloomy smile, melting the last bit of icy resentment she held against him.

Despite herself, Buffy found herself smiling back. "Spike…" she stepped closer, until she was directly in front of him, leveling with him as closely as she could, given the difference in their heights. "I _love_ you." she said firmly.

"A few dozen more of those, pet, and I'll believe you." Spike's grin took on a rather impish quality as he stepped closer.

"You're going to give me a sore throat tonight, aren't you?" Spike's eyebrows raised, and his smile jumped from impish to wicked. "NOT like that." she quickly added, but it was too late, they were both lost to helpless giggling.

Spike pulled her into a tight hug, resuming his stroking of her hair as their laughter slowed, both of them realizing happily how long it had been since either of them had laughed that much. "I missed you, pet." he whispered, still smiling "I haven't had this much fun since our last apocalypse."

"Not the best choice of dates, but I'm sure you'll make it up to me." She buried her head in his chest, smiling to herself as she listened to Spike's quiet laughter starting up again.


	5. Afterglow

Angel buried his head in the pillows of his large bed, cursing his sensitive hearing. It had only been three days since Buffy joined their odd little household, but it felt like months.

He could hear their raucous conversation drifting from the kitchen, as had been his wakeup call the past two days. Luckily for him, the first full day of her visit had been a Friday, and he had an excuse to spend the whole day away at work, away from Spike. He had half expected them to make use of Buffy's paid hotel room for the weekend, but to his surprise, Buffy's things had been moved into Spike's room by the time he arrived home that evening, and a receipt for 'luggage delivery' was taped to his apartment door. _She's just full of surprises_.

Ears buried under a pillow, he could still make out most of their conversation from two rooms away.

"Spike!" Buffy was near-shouting at him breathlessly, trying to remove the box of pancake mix from his hands as he dangled it childishly above her head. "I CAN do it, you know!"

"Oh no, pet. Not after yesterday. They should call you the pancake slayer after yesterday." Spike made a face, disappointed by his own lame comment.

"Meanie." Buffy pouted dramatically, sticking out her bottom lip.

"Oh, that lip!" he grinned, both of them remembering his reference. "Gonna get it!" He lunged at Buffy, who shrieked in mock terror before jumping into his reaching arms and allowing him to finish what he'd started.

"Have you ever even _made_ pancakes before?" she asked as they broke apart.

"Can't be that hard," he picked the box up off the tile floor, dusting it jokingly. Glancing at the box, he absentmindedly pulled an egg from the carton in the fridge, attempting to crack it on the edge of the bowl Buffy had set out for herself. Striking the bowl with excessive force, the egg exploded spectacularly, showering Buffy.

Demanding the box back from Spike, who was covering his mouth to smother his laughter, she shook her head at him in an exaggerated '_I told you so,' _holding up her finger. "Give me ten minutes, I'm taking a shower, and then I will go _buy _us some _already cooked_ breakfast." Glancing at her soiled dressing robe, and ignoring Spike's bemused smile, she muttered to herself. "Not the first piece of clothing he's ruined." _Nor the last. _

Looking around him at the mess he'd made, Spike saw the tiny splash of egg yolk that had landed on his forearm, and moved to wash it off in the sink. Reaching for the handle, he smirked to himself, and turned around, walking down the hallway. _I have a much better idea. _

Hearing the shower start, and the SECOND opening and closing of the bathroom door, Angel was reaching his wits end. Pulling himself out of bed, he cursed the sun; despite the cold, it was already far too light out for him him take a much-needed walk, but at least he had his 'demon-friendly' car. It may be Sunday, but work was sounding better by the minute. Anything had to be better than the frustration of that weekend at home.

He and Buffy had finally gotten to have that heart-to-heart the night before, taking a long walk through the city. She told him about her 'fling' with Spike after her return to life, about all the events that had led up to Spike's journey for his soul, and their slow recovery since. Luckily for Spike, the two were quite a distance from the house by the time she had arrived at the story of Spike's turning point, his last awful regression into his evil ways. It took quite a bit of convincing on Buffy's part to talk him out of acting on his various and intricate mumbled threats to make Spike _really _pay, but she was patient with him, more so than he'd ever remembered her being. As she'd wryly pointed out, Angel's own actions towards her when he'd lost his soul did not exactly leave him standing upon the moral high ground.

Angel had to wonder to himself why his own desire to be with Buffy hadn't resulted in a different set of events when he'd found himself without a soul in Sunnydale. The more she told him about Spike's few selfless actions, the more his guilt grew over his artful abuses of her and her friends at that time. It helped him to blame the changes Spike underwent with Buffy's influence solely on the chip, but Angel knew better. Even forced to stop physically harming humans he would have found a million different ways to lash out at Buffy, he would never have helped her.

Angel was disgusted with himself to admit that despite their history, Spike's reappearance set off a feeling in him akin to grief. A selfish part of him had been glad to have Spike out of the way. Buffy's more-than-friendly greeting when he'd arrived to assist her in Sunnydale had given him hope that she may be open to a relationship with him, even if it was distantly in the future. He'd had every intention of taking his time, letting her have her space, but part of him knew once he saw Spike that his time had already run out. Any chance he had with Buffy would be minimal once she found out; the distance she kept from him the aftermath of Spike's death made that much fairly clear. Luckily for him, Spike had not been ready to tell her either. _Thank God for that, but it's too late now. _

Across town, Buffy and Spike were just ending their lengthy shower as Angel was pulling into the parking garage at Wolfram and Hart.

Pulling him in for one last kiss, hands roaming his damp skin, Buffy uttered a small moan of satisfaction. Spike broke the spell gently, bending to pick up her robe, which was currently crumpled in a damp heap on the floor.

"Want me to toss this in the wash?"

Buffy stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment at the thought of Spike doing laundry. Sensing the teasing that was coming, Spike scowled and moved to throw it back on the floor, but Buffy caught his hand. "I'm sorry," she said, hiding her smile. "I just don't always picture you like this, so _domestic._ Sometimes I still see 'William the Bloody' when I look at you."

"Well, I've been picking up a little around the house for Captain Forehead," he admitted. "Since I'm here _free _and all. I don't do well feeling useless, even to him."

"How sweet of you." Buffy was again struggling to hide her smile, and Spike scowled grumpily back at her, but seemed to recover quickly, twisting the robe between his fingers and whipping her thighs with it lightly, to Buffy's obvious pleasure.

"I'm anything but _sweet,_ pet." he kissed her gently, drawing himself up to his full height as he did. No longer able to reach his lips, Buffy watched him as he wrapped a towel around his waist, and carried the robe out of the room with him. Glancing around, she realized he had taken the only towel.

Naked and shivering, she had just began to wonder if she could risk the short trip down the hall to their room using only the washcloth for cover, when Spike reappeared, holding another towel. Without speaking, he wrapped it around her tightly, protectively, and she pulled him into a quick hug.

"Now _that _was sweet."

He ran his fingers over her wet curls. "Don't tell a soul," he whispered.

It took the pair of them nearly an hour to realize Angel was no longer home, and nearly another hour to bother looking for his note: a quickly scrawled 'went to work, be back later' taped to the door. They spent a lazy afternoon of eating, napping, and savoring the quiet time they both knew couldn't last, not in lives like theirs.

Spike's hopeful "Patrol tonight?" was met with enthusiasm, as Buffy was getting as restless as he was. The chore that patrols had been back in Cleveland would again be a shared adventure, and they were each hardly able to hide their excitement. Buffy had nearly forgotten the reason she had come to Los Angeles in the first place: a promise to help Angel with his local vampire problem.

The sun seemed to take twice as long to set that day. The first touch of pink in the sky saw Buffy sitting up on her bed, polishing the beautiful slayer's Scythe she never went far without these days. Always looking for a project, Xander had helped her customize the interior of a beaten-looking old guitar case as a perfectly disguised travel sheath, and Willow had protected it magically from being opened by anyone other than Buffy herself. As long as nobody asked her to 'play', she was home free.

She was so engrossed in her ritualistic cleaning that she didn't notice Spike appear at the doorway, watching her. Her back was to the window, the light turning her skin and fair hair into shades of rich, faceted gold. The reflections from the Scythe made her eyes glimmer, almost dangerously. As the sun sank further, the slight shadows emphasized her tight cheekbones. Spike realized for the first time how tired and thin she looked, with a touch of worry. Still, she was no less beautiful.

Finally, she noticed her admirer. "Hey, you." She seemed to be lost in thought.

Spike took his place on the bed beside her, kissing her forehead gently. "Angel's home."

"Are you playing nice?"

"Mildly."

Noticing his tone, Buffy smirked. "The sun's almost down, don't kill each other for ten more minutes, and then we can be on our way."

"Date night?" Angel looked in from the doorway, attempting to sound lighthearted, but the bile seeped into his voice. He'd tried to distance himself from them by leaving, but his thoughts had never left Buffy.

"Patrolling." Spike stood on instinct, attempting to level with him.

"I thought I should at least do what I came here to do." Buffy was more gentle, seeing Angel was at least making an effort to come to terms with the circumstances. "It's not a date, you're welcome to join us."

"I better not." said Angel. Spike had tensed immediately, not attempting in any way to hide his displeasure at the invitation.

"No, _really_." Buffy gripped Spike's arm with painful force, daring him to argue.

"Buffy, it's okay." he smiled, straining a little. "But you should know, if you want to try to take a look at the crew we've been after, we think they're holding an old apartment building by the cemetery a few blocks North. None of us have made a move on the new spot yet, I wouldn't suggest doing so without backup, just in case."

Buffy looked like she might argue, and Angel tossed a military-issue pager to Spike, who nodded. "I'll let you know if we need you."

As he watched them go, Buffy could see the conflicting emotions on Angel's face. This was the second time he'd seen her since Sunnydale, and again, she was leaving him on the sidelines, again partially for Spike's benefit.

"I wish you didn't have to make him feel so unwelcome." she said, as they moved past the range of even Angel's hearing.

"I can't say I'm exactly sorry, pet."

She crossed her arms, and he swiftly attempted to defend his position.

"Buffy, he's insufferable at the best of times. I've been closer to him than I've ever wanted to be over the past six months, and now I've only just gotten you back. Forgive me if I want you to myself for a little while." He glanced around at their surroundings, they still had several blocks to go to reach the suspected lair. For a few minutes, they walked along in silence.

Buffy was the first to break it, speaking slowly as if deep in thought. "Do you remember our patrols together, training the girls?"

"I remember all of our patrols." He smiled to himself, suspecting where her mind had wandered. "Yes, I wound up thinking about _that_ one in particular just a few nights back. Right before you showed up and gave me an even better memory."

She nudged him, but continued. "When I thought I'd hurt you, you took my hand… that was when I realized how much I still needed you, maybe even loved you."

Spike's chest tightened. He'd never heard her speaking like this, so _open._ Buffy was staring up at him, increasing her walking speed out of nerves. Unable to think of anything worth saying, he kept her gaze, then took her hand and squeezed. She pulled him against her, and they walked along, shoulder to shoulder, looking almost like any other couple out for a nighttime walk.

They had gotten so comfortable in the moment, they almost didn't notice the small group ducking around the streetcorner just ahead. Spike caught it first, and instantly pulled Buffy behind him against the nearest wall to reduce their profile from the streetlamp. The group as a whole had clearly been drinking. One male in particular stumbled forward with a swagger, the streetlamp showing his face clearly for what he was; they had found their vampire crew.

Buffy's hands slipped down, finding the handle for her scythe, adjusting her grip for a battle-ready hold. Before Spike could stop her, she slipped ahead of him, sticking to the shadows cast by the tall building, moving swiftly towards the group. Cursing, he followed, slipping a freshly sharpened stake from his coat, and moving a second into a clip in his sleeve. _Following this crazy bint will be the death of me... again. _

The group of vampires were bragging loudly, talking over each other, something about 'flimsy little windows' being 'a poor security system'. They were carrying a few bottles of liquor each. _Those idiots must have just robbed a liquor store. _Buffy glanced at Spike, signalling to him that she was going to make her move. There were five in total, all of them inebriated. The ragtag bunch would make an easy mark for a slayer even if they hadn't been drinking. Buffy saw no sign of any 'demon guards', as Angel had warned her against. _They must keep them in the lair itself. Unless Angel was exaggerating... but that's not like him. _

Confident in her advantage, she jumped forward, catching them off guard as she emerged from the shadows. She took her run at the largest of the group, beheading him with one swing. As the dust cleared, two tall female vamps, fueled by shock and rage, jumped at Buffy in unison. With a roundhouse kick, she slammed the closer one into the wall, out of her way, and the second swing of her scythe spelled death for the slower of the two. Wary and bruised, the other female drew back, regrouping with the two remaining males. As Spike jumped into position beside Buffy, the dark-haired male that she'd seen in the streetlamp stepped forward, slipping out of game-face, hands raised into the air in a universal image of surrender.

"Well done." His voice was cold, his human features chiseled and handsome. _If he wasn't obviously the leader, I would think they turned him for his looks. _"You're no weakling, but unless you'd like me calling in some real threats, _STAND DOWN."_

Buffy steeled herself. "I can't imagine why you think I'll be listening to _you_." She watched closely, keeping herself ready. His right hand had slipped into his pocket. Drawing his hand out slowly, he wiggled a beautiful blue crystal in front of her. She forced out a scoff. _Maybe I can provoke him into a mistake?_

"I'm not easily led into mistakes, sweetheart." As her eyes widened in shock, he stroked the crystal lovingly. "As you can probably guess now, you won't be surprising me." He waved a hand dismissively at the two remaining vampires, who retreated quickly, running towards their lair.

Confused, Spike glanced between the two of them, unsure how to protect her. Watching him, the dark-haired vampire laughed cruelly.

"Oh, that's just _cute._ Slayer's got herself a little pet monster." Spike stiffened, and the other vampire examined him, surprise flitting across his face.

"Ah, I see. You aren't quite a monster…" he drawled, still stroking the crystal. "But you'll never be _human, _I hope you understand that."

"He's more human than you'll ever understand." Buffy pointed the scythe at him threateningly, trying to keep her mind blank. Her efforts seemed to worsen her predicament, as thoughts of Spike flashed quickly through her mind: the night he came to find her in Sunnydale, his sacrifice, their… physical relationship.

Smirking evilly, the vampire stared as if listening intently, and the heat grew in Buffy's cheeks. Tired of the game, Spike lunged at the other vamp. His opponent slipped the crystal around his neck, ducking back almost quickly enough to dodge Spike, who caught him by his collar in a grapple, recreating the move that had been used on him a few nights before. Forcing him onto his knees, Spike reached for the crystal, intent on ripping it from his neck. Whatever crossed his mind in that moment must have been of interest, because the other vamp suddenly flung Spike off of him with an elated cackle.

"Oh, _thank you!" _his tone was mocking, and he clapped his hands together in glee. Spike shook off the hit with a snarl, lunging at the demon with bloodlust he hadn't felt in months.

Whatever information Spike's thoughts had provided would remain a mystery, as Buffy reached the vampire first. The crystal clattered to the ground, no longer having a neck to swing from. As Buffy reached for it, the blue color seeped out, and she found herself holding a dirty, innocuous piece of quartz.


	6. Tales of Two Cities

"Hello?"

"Giles! It's Buffy, I need to talk to you."

"Buffy… It's _two-thirty_ in the morning…"

"Yeah, she does that."

"Angel?" Buffy thought she could hear him cleaning his glasses, but it could have been her imagination. She stifled a snort, picturing him sleeping in them, all out of sorts and tangled in his hair.

"I'm sorry Giles, but we're not sure if the vampires I killed tonight are going to retaliate or not. They had some… interesting toys." Buffy had to admit to herself that the call could've probably waited, but Giles was right. She always went to him when she needed help with something.

Giles groaned. That time she was sure she heard his glasses clicking together. "So… you are in Los Angeles then, I take it? That explains why I couldn't get an answer at your flat. I've been calling you for _days_, Buffy. You had me quite concerned."

"I'm sorry Giles," she repeated. "I haven't been in Cleveland since Thursday morning."

"You could have called me, Giles." Angel cut in.

"I'm sorry, Angel." Giles rubbed his eyes. "As far as I knew, you and Buffy still weren't speaking much. She hadn't mentioned a trip." he paused, wondering for a moment. "Was this a… planned excursion?"

Sensing the implication, Buffy blushed, praying Spike couldn't hear the speakerphone call from the kitchen. "No, I came down to help him with some vampires. We ran into them tonight, the head-honcho guy had this… thing," she continued quickly, hearing Giles's slight sigh at the word '_thing'. 'Such a waste of time' he'd always called it. _"This blue crystal-thing on a string. He could hear our thoughts Giles, he almost had me off my game enough to miss my shot at him."

"While that's very interesting, I'm sure it could have waited until a… brighter hour."

She blushed again. "Well, since I have you…"

"No, since I have _you, _we need to talk, Buffy. It's about Willow."

"Is she okay?" Angel's voice was layered with concern; he was actually quite fond of Willow. Xander never really took to him, but Willow had kept the peace on his behalf at most of their meetings.

"Willow has been having blackouts, migraine headaches… She's been finding herself locked in rooms, wandering hallways, not knowing how she got there. We tried a spell three days ago, and there was residual energy from another magick-user. We couldn't quite pinpoint the purpose or the exact nature of the spells being used, but she's definitely being targeted." Giles tone was stern. "Your friends need you, Buffy. I think it's time you join us."

Angel tapped his fingers. "I could have her on the W&H jet by noon tomorrow, if you'd like."

Buffy shot him a glare. She knew why he was so keen to get her out of the city. _If Willow needs me, though…_ "I'd take it. If you want me to, Giles."

Slightly surprised at the lack of resistance, Giles breathed out deeply, relieved at the weight off his mind. "All right, keep me well-informed of the details, I will arrange the rest with Angel. _After_ I've gotten some rest, that is."

Recognizing her dismissal, Buffy quietly bid Giles goodnight, and ducked out of the room to join Spike in the kitchen. She could hear him swearing; something wasn't going well.

Angel took Giles off speakerphone, but waited until he could hear conversation between her and Spike pick up to speak. "It's just me."

"What were you thinking, inviting her to Los Angeles?" Giles sounded almost angry, but Angel knew it was out of a desire to protect his prior charge. "How are you going to keep her from finding out?"

"She did, Giles. She knows."

Giles swore vehemently, to his considerable surprise.

"I couldn't leave her there, Giles. She was driving herself crazy, all alone in a strange city." Angel sighed. "I tried to put her up at a hotel, but she showed up at my apartment. Next thing I know, she and _Captain Peroxide_ were right back where they started. Except on my living room floor."

Giles whistled softly. _That can't have gone well. _

"What do you expect me to do now?" Giles had been Angel's one confidant, the one person in Buffy's life he was able to talk to about Spike's return, secure in the knowledge that Giles wanted them kept apart as much as he did. He genuinely hoped the other man had some trick up his sleeve that could save him from his current situation, _anything. _

"Well, there isn't anything we really can do. She'll be an unfocused mess if we split them up now. We might as well just allow Spike to come along, at least then we can supervise somewhat."

"You're joking." Angel struggled to keep his voice low. "Giles, _supervising_ them is exactly my problem. I can't watch this anymore."

"At the very least, you'll be sharing that arduous duty now." Giles yawned. "I really must get some sleep, please call me back after eight, and update me as to when you'll need me at the airstrip. I'll be seeing you soon."

Wanting to put his fist through his own wall, Angel settled for hanging up forcefully. He could hear them again, already climbing into bed in the next room, despite the early hour. Cursing them all, he quickly grabbed a coat, stepping outside for a long, long walk.

The next morning was brisk and cold, thankfully cloud-covered, not a ray of sunshine in sight. Free from his usual restrictions, Spike was borderline cheerful. Neither Buffy nor Angel quite knew what to think when he disappeared in the morning, returning with three coffees, and a breakfast sandwich for Buffy. The gesture was sweet, even as Spike mischievously slid Angel's credit card back to him as he placed the black coffee in front of him. Buffy had filled him in the night before, and he was grateful to Angel for extending the invitation to him, as he had early that morning.

Angel was able to secure the jet for much earlier than estimated, so the three of them packed in a hurry. Not having done much unpacking in the first place, and Spike not having many essentials, they were mostly waiting on Angel. Buffy tried some light-hearted teasing on the subject, without much response. She tried not to take it personally; she knew this was hard on him.

The group spoke very little at all until they were waved to their seats by the co-pilot, a tall, elegant woman with cropped black hair. Having little else to do, Buffy and Spike settled down comfortably for a nap, while Angel made various calls to his contacts, inside and outside the firm. Buffy's encounter with the vampire group had likely decimated them, but they clearly had resources beyond the normal array, and Angel was determined to see security near-doubled in his absence.

Six hours into their eleven hour flight, Spike was getting restless, searching the cabin for anything of interest.

"Found something of yours." he grinned, flinging a bag labeled 'Bite-Sized Nuts' at Angel's lap.

Angel was too tightly wound to keep his cool, and snarled, jumping at Spike, who cleanly dodged him, laughing mockingly. Buffy quickly jumped between them, startling them both with a high-pitched battle cry.

"Act. Your. Age." She gritted her teeth, one hand on each of their chests, and threw them forcefully into the nearest seats. Glaring, she paced in front of them. "This flight is not even _halfway _over. If we are all going to make it to London _alive_," she paused, shaking her head at her own choice of words. "...Somewhat, anyway, then you two have _got_ to figure out how to get along. At the very least, pretend to, or so-help-me-God, I will throw one _or both_ of you through a window."

"Sorry, Buffy." Angel hung his head, in genuine shame.

Spike smirked, kicking up the foot-rest for his seat. "I like it when you get all bossy, pet. Save some for later, will you?"

Resisting the urge to kick him against the cabin wall, Buffy took a deep breath. Her eyes caught the liquor cart, just visible behind a curtain in the corner storage area.

"How about a drink?" _Or twelve. _

Two hours later, Buffy shook her head incredulously, watching Spike and Angel joking jovially about the tiny bottles of whiskey as if they'd never fought in their lives. _I will never understand boys. _Shrugging, she downed another mini bottle of vodka and shuddered. She'd never quite gotten the allure of straight shots until right then; sometimes, you just _need_ that little burn. Her companions however didn't seem to feel any burning at all, sucking down the little drinks as if they were gulping water. _Then again, they probably don't have any feeling left in their throats._ There were easily thirty plastic bottles littering the cabin floor.

Buffy hadn't quite kept pace with them, thanks to their heightened tolerance for alcohol, but she knew she was far more inebriated than she'd ever been. She could feel the plane tilting back and forth, her mind drifting happily in a satisfying fog. Spike was the only thing that looked solid to her, and she smiled at him. He met her eyes and smiled back, but when he moved to stand up, the last solid thing in her field of view beginning to move, she was overtaken by intense nausea. Concerned, but fighting grins, both men rushed to help a swaying Buffy to the little plane bathroom. Knowing she wouldn't take it well in her state, Spike bit his lip so hard to keep himself from teasing her that he tasted his own blood.

Once Buffy's stomach had ceased to fight her, her eyelids began to. Spike and Angel lowered her into her seat gently, reclining it slowly so as not to disturb her; she had already fallen asleep. Angel watched with narrowed eyes as Spike tenderly pushed the strands of dark-blonde hair away from her face, but felt his eyes soften as he saw Buffy lean into the touch, smiling in her sleep.

"Silly human." Spike kissed her cheek gently. Angel felt himself staring, but couldn't bring himself to look away. In over a hundred years, he had never seen a look like that in the other man's eyes.

_He actually loves her. _Marveling to himself, Angel finally felt something beyond jealousy: peace, even relief. Buffy was safe, loved, cared for, even if it wasn't with him.

Noticing him, Spike felt a momentary rise of defensive instincts, but they faded quickly. He couldn't quite pinpoint the emotions playing across Angel's face, but nothing in his demeanor suggested any threat. Quite the opposite, if anything.

"I think we can do this." Angel spoke slowly, carefully.

"Do what, exactly?"

"Be there for her, both of us. As a team. Or, if not a _team,_ then cooperating."

Spike searched his face, checking for any signs of subterfuge, seeing nothing but resigned truth. "You sure about that? We've never been mates, _especially_ when there's a bird involved. And this is no ordinary bird."

Angel smiled weakly. "I think we should try."

"I would do anything for her- and I know you would too." he added quickly, seeing the rise begin. "But we've been through hell and back, Angel, both of us, fighting each other all the while. This isn't going to be easy."

"It wasn't all bad." Angel's voice took on a mischievous quality Spike hadn't heard since Angelus. "Remember Berlin, 1896?"

"Disgusting city." Spike coughed as if choking on the memory. "But, those _girls."_

"The dancers?" Angel grinned.

Spike dramatically mimed a swoon, getting a laugh out of Angel. They reminisced for nearly an hour, each of them watching Buffy, but keeping the conversation away from the topic of her to avoid spoiling their moment of truce.

Finally, Spike sighed. "You're right."

"I'm _right?_"

Spike kicked him hard. "Yes, you wanker, you're _right._ We'll be fine."

"Aw, William the _Gentleman_."

"It's _SPIKE, _Angelus." This time it was Angel's turn to kick him, but Spike was expecting it, and leapt backwards just in time.

Still chortling, Angel gripped his shoulder. "You're like the annoying kid brother I never had. Did I ever tell you that?"

Spike was no longer listening. Buffy was sitting up slowly, rubbing her forehead and moaning loudly.

"Lie down love, we've got a few hours yet," he crooned softly. She seemed to ignore him, but didn't speak, just continued her efforts to sit up comfortably.

As if on cue, the co-pilot stepped in, smiling at them warmly. "Three hours to London! Are we all sitting comfortably?"

Spike looked over at Angel, using Buffy's seat to hide the rather graphic hand gestures he was making. Angel ignored him, but blushed slightly; he got the idea. Spike was trying to _wingman_ for him. _Spike, of all people… _

The co-pilot was still smiling expectantly, almost hopefully, at Angel. She really was quite beautiful, her olive skin and short, dark hair perfectly emphasizing her large sea-colored eyes.

"Do you have a ginger ale, actually?"

She smiled, and ducked behind a curtain, returning with the drink. As Angel stood to collect it from her, her eyes appraised his large body with clear appreciation. She leaned in closer, making it clear this was a personal offer. "Anything else, you know where to find me."

Passing the ginger ale to Spike, Angel rolled his eyes at the increasingly vulgar jokes, both silent and verbal, from his younger companion. Truth be told, Angel was used to such attention, but as he watched the couple wistfully, he knew he'd rather be getting it from someone else.


	7. Old and New

Buffy was thanking every God she could think of that her 'Slayer healing' seemed to apply to alcohol also as the plane made it's descent. Left with only a slight headache and a grumbling, empty stomach, she could feel her building excitement at the prospect of seeing everyone again. She knew she had reasons for avoiding London, but after the last three days, she couldn't remember any of them. _Giles, Willow, Xander, DAWN! _Her friend's names seemed to echo in every loud step as she rushed past the nighttime airport crowds.

With her giant duffel bag in tow, gaining a few stares for the speed of her moments despite its size, Buffy ran down to the gate, shrieking with joy as Willow's flaming hair came into view. The girls ran headlong into each other, Buffy pulling Willow into a tight hug.

"Ow, Buffy, ow! Watch the Slayer strength!"

"Sorry Will." Buffy grinned sheepishly, but immediately pulled Willow back into another, only slightly less painful, embrace. Behind Willow, Giles was waving hesitantly, and Buffy nearly cried with happiness as she leapt towards him, wrapping Dawn into the hug as well.

Noticing her wandering stare, Dawn managed to inform her that Xander and Andrew were waiting back at the house before Buffy squeezed her sister so tight that she momentarily lost use of her lungs. The past six months, Buffy had never felt this close to any of them, and in that moment she realized how much she had missed it.

Smiling fondly as he gently pulled her away from Dawn, Giles leaned down, his voice a hushed whisper: "Buffy, I have prepared Willow for the presence of your... guest... but you may want to provide Dawn with some warning. She simply insisted on coming, I didn't expect to bring her, I was going to let you tell her yourself..."

Willow was already looking curiously behind Buffy, but Dawn had yet to notice the two vampires making their slow journey through the airport towards the group. The sun had gone down hours prior to their arrival, so they needn't avoid the windows, but the crowds bustling past them seemed to make them, or at least Spike, highly uncomfortable.

Buffy was pulling on Dawn's arm, attempting to pull her aside to tell her the news when her eyes locked on to Spike's. Worried, Buffy watched Dawn carefully, unsure how she would respond to his presence, but she didn't seem ready to move just yet. She stared, sizing him up, face unreadable, as they approached.

"Dawn, Willow, Giles!" Angel closed the gap between them in bounding steps, shaking each of their hands warmly. Giles and Willow were genuinely pleased at his presence, but Dawn's hand was stiff as she allowed him to shake it, already staring past Angel.

"Been awhile, lil' bit."

Dawn tried to keep her face clear, but Spike, always able to read people, could see the complicated emotions struggling within her. Once, she had _loved _Spike, her protector, her confidant, the one person to always treat her as if she was just another member of the group, rather than a weaker shadow of Buffy's. _Then he hurt Buffy, hurt my sister, broke our trust. Then he tortured himself, almost dying, to get his soul… then he really did die for us, died for her. But he's here? _Dawn didn't know what to feel. Staring at him for several seconds that stretched on as if minutes, an emotion finally won out: relief. Surprising everyone, Dawn jumped onto Spike, eyes watering, and wrapped him in a tight hug.

Spike stood awkwardly for a moment, arms hanging limply around her, but recovered himself, tentatively returning the embrace. Relieved by her sister's reaction, Buffy smiled, joining them. Spike had to hide his own watering eyes as the group broke apart.

"The amulet," Buffy whispered into Dawn's ear. "The amulet brought him back, I've only known for a couple of days."

Dawn nodded silently, and wiped her eyes. She seemed to need a moment of recovery from it all, and tried to take Buffy's duffel bag from her, mumbling that she would carry it to Willow's car. Angel quickly followed to help her, seeing the bag nearly pull the smaller girl to the floor with its weight. The two of them made their way to the little green car faintly visible outside.

Spike eyed the small car with raised eyebrows.

"We are going to have to split off," Giles explained. "We could have, just barely, fit into Willow's car if Dawn had agreed to wait at Wyndbury Lane with Xander. Since I could not convince her or Willow to do so, I had to bring mine along as well and lead them here."

Willow put her hand in Buffy's with a smile, taking Spike by the arm as well. "You two are with me, Giles will take Angel. He found himself another two-seater mid-life-crisis car, of all things."

The girls rushed away, snorting with laughter, with a bewildered Spike in tow.

Back at Giles's home, the Xander that greeted Buffy was nearly unrecognizable. Buffy had gotten slightly adjusted to his new eyepatch, but seeing Xander in an eyepatch, apron, and oven mitts, bending to reach into a stove, was nearly too much for her. Buffy managed to politely recover control over herself before he noticed her, but entering behind her, Spike roared with laughter, and even Angel was covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle. Xander glared at them both, hands on his hips, which only made the men laugh harder and the girls join in.

Taking pity on him, Buffy pulled Xander away from the others, holding him tightly. "How are you, Xan?" she murmured.

"Tired." He looked it. _He's got dark circles under his eyes. Eye?_ "I've been up since six. Stayed up half the night already to make sure I got to see you, couldn't wait til morning." Xander released her, lowering his head slightly to better look her in the eyes. "Buffy, Will told me about Spike this morning. I'm not going to get involved, but are you sure about this?"

"Yes." She met his stare, answering him firmly. "The Spike that's out there hasn't done any of the things you hold a grudge against him for. _That_ Spike doesn't exist."

"Buffy, if you really believe that, then you barely know that man."

Thankfully, Andrew popped his head into the kitchen, saving Buffy from trying to put together a response. Unable to continue his conversation, Xander gently kissed Buffy's forehead.

"It's good to have you back, Buff. We'll talk shop in the morning."

The others seemed to have either decided as a group to avoid conversations about 'Scooby Business', or were simply too exhausted to get into it just yet.

Xander and Andrew had made several plates of pizza-bagels and opened up several bags of candy, so they all huddled close, sharing food, teasing each other, trying to recapture the old times. Giles rolled his eyes when he saw Xander's choice of 'hot dish', but after sneaking one, admitted that they were 'simply delicious' and openly enjoyed another dozen.

If anyone in the group noticed that Spike was sharing an armchair with Buffy, arms wrapped around her waist, none of them acknowledged it. To be fair, the half-dozen drinks all but Dawn and Buffy had already downed may have played a part in their ignorance. By the time Dawn announced she was 'sick of you drunks' and marched upstairs to bed, Xander and Andrew were hardly able to stand up straight, and Giles had a case of the hiccups that left even him in hysterics.

"Oh God," Xander rubbed his forehead, succeeding on his second attempt to stand up without swaying. "I've still got to get home."

"You aren't driving, you're in quite a state!" Giles hiccuped again, giggling at his own drunkenness.

"It's only a couple miles." Xander stretched and groaned. "I can make it walking, I think."

"Speak for yourself!" Andrew whined.

"C'mon nancies. I'll drive you, I'll make it a lot better than you two." Spike stood, getting a small, sleepy whine from Buffy. He squeezed her hand in answer, then directed a stern stare at Xander. "Keys?"

Andrew passed the keys to Spike, pulling them from the pocket of an indignant Xander. The odd group made their way to the door, Xander still grumbling his protests loudly, Spike rolling his eyes, and Andrew rushing to show Spike the vehicle, still viewing him with a mixture of fear and veneration.

As the door shut behind them, Willow slipped into Spike's place in Buffy's armchair, wrapping her arms around her. Angel had already begun cleaning up on Giles's behalf, who had now fallen asleep, glasses askew, much to the girls' amusement.

"So, Buffy, I think we need to reserve some girl talk time!"

Hugging her back the best she could at the strange angle, Buffy giggled. "Drunk Willow, and girl talk? Would this be about a _girl?"_

"Shush!" Willow grabbed her hand, pulling her up the stairs. "Lets go to your room!"

Willow practically jumped from the chair, flying up the stairs. Buffy glanced around for her duffel bag, confused to see that it was no longer where she'd left it by the door.

"I put it upstairs already." Angel re-entered the room. "... and Spike's backpack. You two have the guest room across from Giles's library. We are a little low on beds, I'll take the couch."

"Angel…"

"It's okay, Buffy. I'll get used to it eventually."

Buffy stood up to follow Willow, but paused, reaching out to Angel and pulling him into a hug. Realizing she hadn't even touched him since she arrived in Los Angeles, the hug lasted longer than she planned. Drawing away from him after over a minute, the look of longing in his eyes caused a sharp pain in Buffy's chest. _Guilt. I've never felt it like this. _She looked up at him, his right hand still on her waist, not knowing what to say. She could _feel _the strength of his pain. She'd seen pain in him before, but this was different, being the cause of it. She hadn't seen a look like that on his face since she was forced to trap him with his demon back in Sunnydale. His face was enveloped in it… _Pain, betrayal… and love. _It was overwhelming. She forced herself to look away, making a run for the staircase. Angel's hand floated in the air for a moment, before slowly lowering, closed into a tight fist.

Willow was bouncing with excitement when Buffy entered the room.

"Her name is Lindsay." Willow's voice was wistful.

"That's pretty!"

"_She's _pretty. She's got this crazy-long strawberry blonde hair, and these gorgeous green eyes, and she's so _tall,_ Buffy. I feel like an ugly little Oompa Loompa next to her."

"Will, you're one of the most beautiful girls I know, stop that."

Willow was barely listening. "She trains potentials at the Academy, she started about a month ago, running the new martial arts program. I think what she teaches is called Danzan Ryu? So many grapples and throws, it's incredible to watch her. She's our age too, about a year older, and she's already been teaching for over five years."

Buffy settled into the pillows, watching Willow with a smile as she babbled on. _It's nice to see her like this!_

"We had lunch last week, and she says she wants to do it again…" Willow's face started to fall. "But Buffy, I'm scared. I can barely talk around her, but if I avoid her much longer, I'm going to ruin it completely. Thank _God _it's winter break."

"Willow, you are powerful, and gorgeous, and we will get your confidence back, I promise." Buffy played with Willow's hair, twisting it into little braids. It was getting long again, already past her collarbones. Willow really did look beautiful. She was dressed in burgundy lounge pants and a lacy black tank top, and her shy, beaming smile would draw attention from anyone.

Willow smiled sadly. "And I still miss Tara. Me and Kennedy were over before we even began, it was just too soon, too intense. Lindsay is… different. She actually reminds me of Tara. Somehow it feels like I'm betraying Tara less, liking Lindsay, but it's just so confusing."

"C'mere." Buffy cuddled up to Willow, comforting her.

"I'm sorry, Buffy."

"What for?"

"I know this must be boring for you, listening to me blather on about a crush. Not exactly as exciting as non-human ex-lovers being resurrected after saving the world." Buffy tweaked her nose at that, and Willow giggled.

"Stop that! You are never boring, Will." Buffy resumed trying to twist her hair into a braid, and Willow closed her eyes, enjoying the contact.

"I don't even know what I would say if we talked about my love life." Buffy mused. "I've been with Spike before, but not like this, this is so new, and so old… And Angel makes it hard."

"Yeah." Willow sat up. "I can tell he's not liking this. What was it like in L.A.?"

"Awkward." Buffy realized she hadn't told Willow the full story of events, and started catching her up.

When she arrived at Angel's surprise entrance, Willow gasped and blushed.

"Buffy!"

It was Buffy's turn to blush. "I know, I don't know what I was thinking. Actually, I wasn't thinking. Not even a little bit."

"And what's he like now?"

"Spike? He's… Spike. He's got his soul, but he's still a pain in the ass, and something about him is just… I need him, I don't even know when it happened for sure, but I do."

Willow yawned. Not out of lack of interest, just lack of sleep. Promising to talk more in the morning, Buffy sent Willow to her own room, and crawled into bed to wait for Spike, unsure if she'd be able to sleep without him.

Xander and Andrew lived on the top floor of their complex, about a mile from the edge of the residential area. Not trusting the two to make it up five flights of stairs on their own, Spike walked them to their door, half-carrying Xander by the time they reached the top. Announcing that he had done his share, and was "not about to tuck anyone in," Spike started on the long walk back to Giles's home, missing Buffy already.

Sick of waiting within minutes, Spike began to jog, relishing the bite of the bitter cold wind. He wasn't completely sure what the sleeping arrangements were going to be, but he was determined to share with Buffy, no matter who he would be making uncomfortable. Giles was as distant and cold towards him as he remembered, at least until he'd gotten several drinks in him, and he knew that he would want Buffy kept away from him. _Not going to happen, not anymore._

Nearing the city's edge, he caught an overwhelming whiff of something he hadn't smelled that strongly in months: human blood, lots of it. Instinct and adrenaline kicking into overdrive, he increased his speed further, ducking into alleyway after alleyway. As he neared the source, he slowed. He could already sense he was too late.

Sure enough, he found her, a pretty young thing, slumped against an alley wall. Her body was ice cold, her neck ripped open viciously. Spike swallowed, remembering the times in his past that _he _had been as cruel; whoever had done this had enjoyed the girl's suffering. The oldest wounds were the smallest veins, the blood around them already dried brown. Her death would have been slow, incredibly painful, as she grew weaker and weaker from struggling and loss of blood. The girl had clearly fought back; her left arm was twisted at her side in an impossible angle, broken, her knuckles faintly bloody.

In her right hand, Spike could see the faintest outline of something clutched in her first. Kneeling, Spike pulled it from her gently, and froze in surprise. It was _familiar._ A thin, black lace choker, with small black and red stones adorning the center clasp. Suddenly dizzy, he raised it to his nose, breathing in the scent. _Drusilla._

His past had already caught up to him.


	8. Soul

By the time Spike returned, it was less than an hour to sunrise, and Buffy was in the early stages of panic. She had fallen asleep eventually, but tossed and turned fitfully, waking up each time that she reached out for Spike and hadn't found him.

Much to Spike's appreciation, Giles had covered the windows completely behind the thin curtains, and as a result the two slept on long after the sun had risen for the day. Nobody was keen to bother them. Spike slept for awhile, but woke before Buffy, holding her in her sleep, lost in thought.

He had searched for over an hour, unable to pick up the scent of her, before finally returning to the house. Wherever Drusilla was, she was long gone, and he hoped beyond hope that the unfortunate girl's souvenir had just been a trick of his mind.

Buffy murmured in her sleep, pulling him closer. _I can't tell her_, he thought. _I want things to stay this way, our little honeymoon stage._ He kissed her gently, and Buffy's eyes opened slowly.

"Good morning." She whispered, winding her arms around his waist.

"Morning, love." He leaned down and kissed her again, more deeply. She tried to pull away, protesting that she still had 'awful morning breath', but he ignored her.

Giving up, she leaned into it. He kissed her repeatedly, his anticipation growing, and her self-control gave way completely. She slipped his hands under her camisole, directing them onto her breasts. While his hands roamed over her chest and squeezed the sides of her body, his tongue and lips took turns exploring the exposed skin on her shoulders and neck. From this position, the scent of him was intoxicating. If she was honest with herself, the fact that he was still technically a demon did add something to the experience - breathing him in, her Slayer instincts screamed _danger,_ and she was never one to run from danger.

For the first time since their reunion, what followed reminded her of the early days of her 'relationship' with him, when it was built on sex and lust and _violence_. With him ensouled, the sensations were heightened by something else... _Trust, perhaps?_

She felt like she could let go of herself completely with him now, but his personality was still there, his _creativity._ Pushing back the intrusive and sobering thought that his skill might be built on past experience, she allowed herself to respond to him, and soon after, momentarily lost the ability to think at all.

_He was back in the alleyway, with Drusilla, the night she turned him. He felt it all over again, the crazed desperation for anything to distract him from the feelings of rejection and inadequacy. He was letting her bite him. She looked beautiful, her eyes were so youthful; she didn't yet carry the decades in her eyes she eventually would. Spike himself felt innocent, he didn't yet have any blood on his hands. _

_The empty alleyway behind him suddenly changed. They weren't alone, there was a girl there, watching, looking terrified. Drusilla released him, pouncing on the girl instead, who screamed. He froze in fear, still human, still weak. He knew her, the girl, her identity came to him in waves, memories, he had to save her. Rushing at Drusilla, he was himself again, at least in mind he was no longer William, he was Spike, and the girl was Buffy, his Buffy. Drusilla laughed and knocked him away like batting away a fly, and Spike watched, helpless, as Drusilla drained her victim dry._

Spike woke up feeling ice cold, despite the heat of the room, and of the woman still wrapped tightly in blankets at his side. The earlier parts of the morning came back to him as he shook off his nightmare. _We must've fallen back asleep, after…_

"Oh, bloody hell." His eyes had found the clock in the corner of the room. It was past _noon,_ and he was in desperate need of a shower.

"What?" Buffy sat up, following his eyes to the clock. "Oh, _shit." _She dashed about the room. "We promised we would help Giles and Willow today, why didn't anyone wake us up?"

"Can't imagine they were tripping over themselves to knock on our door, pet." He motioned to their lack of sleepwear, and she groaned, embarrassed.

"Okay, okay." She pushed her hair out of her face. "You take the first shower, it's the door to the left of the library. Willow left some towels for us on the chair, you make a dash for it, I'll be in right after you."

"Not with me?"

In answer, she threw a pillow at him as hard as she could, which only made him chuckle to himself as he followed her direction, wrapping a towel around his waist and slipping out of the room.

Buffy looked around her. The bed was slightly askew, half the blankets on the floor, crumpled up with her shorts, her tank top and Spike's clothes from the night before. Guiltily, cursing her own poor behaviour, she slowly made the bed, retrieving the pillow she had thrown at Spike. Still waiting on his return, she picked up his clothes too, folding his jeans, and laying his leather duster out on the bed. Sticking out of the pocket, she thought she saw her own lace underwear, and blushed.

Pulling them out, she stopped suddenly, realizing it wasn't hers. It wasn't even underwear. It was a thin, delicate lace choker. The lace looked old, maybe antique, the stones in the center looked like obsidian, and possibly garnet or rubies. Her stomach dropped, realizing why it looked so familiar. _Drusilla. That bastard… kept a souvenir of hers. After all this time?_

Her eyes stung, the heat of humiliation and anger filling her cheeks. She shoved it back into his pocket as Spike began to open the door.

"Hey love, the knob's a bitch, you've gotta-"

She grabbed the towel and shoved past him, staring at the ground. Watching her fly across the hall, Spike heard the bathroom door slam and felt it echo in his own chest.

"Crazy bint. What'd I do this time?"

Spike waited for her to come back after her shower, but instead, she seemed to have gone straight downstairs. Frustrated and confused, he followed her. _So much for that bubble._

She was sitting at the table, talking brightly to Willow, apologizing profusely to everyone for oversleeping. Giles was waving her away from the kitchen, as he made her a large sandwich; they'd missed breakfast.

Sitting down beside Buffy, Spike grumpily bid everyone a "good afternoon."

Shooting him a warning glare, Buffy looked back at Willow, letting her continue.

"- we thought we'd split up today. Xander was going to talk to the coven members, since I've gotten as much as I can. They're usually so keen to flirt with him that he might have better luck. He's probably still asleep too, so don't worry about your late start. Angel, Giles and I were going to look through the Academy library and database, and we figured you and Spike could just fill in where you'd like."

"Spike can go with Xander, I'll go with you." Buffy's voice was cold, which was not lost on anyone in the group.

"I guess I'll be off then." Spike had raised his eyebrows, but decided against arguing. _Whatever I did, I'd better not poke the bear. _He felt a slight pang of jealousy, realizing she would be spending the day with Angel, not him.

"You won't have to walk, at least." Giles tossed his car keys to Spike, before looking him over, transparently rethinking the idea. Still, he didn't withdraw the offer, just added a hasty "_Carefully,_ if you please."

Shrugging, Spike ducked out of the room, avoiding Buffy's eyes. Buffy's cheeks were burning again, and she just barely managed to push the need for tears away. Willow had noticed, however, and squeezed her hand, motioning to follow her into the other room.

"What happened?" She whispered as soon as they were out of earshot of the kitchen.

"I don't know, Will," she paused. "I think Spike... might be missing the old days a bit… I found something today, in his things. I think it was an old necklace of Drusilla's."

Willow raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure? Buffy, anyone can see how he looks at you, don't scare yourself over nothing."

Buffy shook her head. "It's not just about being _jealous…_ what if he misses being 'Spike the Big Bad?', I mean, we know plenty of evil humans, what if, even after all this, he just goes right back to it? What if his soul isn't enough to stop him from being… exactly who he was?"

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"No, I didn't… But he took so long to come back last night, he didn't get back until almost morning. I didn't worry about it then, but now, I just feel sick to my stomach. He's hiding something from me, I can feel it."

Willow gulped, starting to grow nervous. "I don't know, but we can look into it. Maybe at the library we can pull up some literature on souls, see how it really affects someone?"

Buffy nodded. At that moment, Dawn came down the stairs behind them, excitedly grabbing Buffy's attention.

"Hey, sis!" Her voice was bright, happy. She twisted on the floor, Buffy could tell she was biting down a question.

"Spit it out, Dawn." She tweaked her nose to let Dawn know she was playing, and Dawn yelped before continuing with her request.

"Sooo…" she dragged the syllable, in classic teenager fashion. "Since you guys are going to be off playing detective today, I was wondering if I could go to my friend Shireen's? She's having a bunch of girls over for a couple days since her building has an indoor pool- I'll only stay for the first night… and only if it's okay with you, that is. Giles said I could, but that was before I knew you were coming. I don't wanna just ditch you!"

Her face was so eager and pleading, Buffy laughed outright, forgetting her earlier troubles for a moment.

"Of course Dawnie, I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to catch up tomorrow."

Dawn squealed excitedly, almost running Angel over in her rush to use the house phone in the kitchen. Angel threw up his hands as if surrendering, smiling as he watched her eager stampede. His smile became a touch bittersweet when he caught Buffy's eyes, but he didn't lose it altogether.

"Giles is ready for you Buffy, we'll let you eat and then we'll head out to the library. He mentioned he might have to drop off Dawn on the way, so it'll be a tight squeeze."

Buffy smiled back weakly, following him into the kitchen. _This is going to be a long day. _

If Xander was upset about the surprise addition to his day, he kept it to himself. Spike suspected, quite correctly, that Xander preferred to have Spike where he could keep an eye on him, as opposed to spending any 'unsupervised' time with Buffy.

Luckily, December in London meant another sunless day. The coven's cooperative housing unit was around seven miles outside the city, and they passed the drive in mostly silence, interrupted by the occasional quip from Andrew, who had insisted on coming as soon as Spike had arrived.

Since Xander's freelance carpentry work usually left him free in the afternoons, he'd spent quite a bit of his time the past few months visiting an overworked Willow at the coven and at the Academy, usually to make sure she was eating something. In her limited spare time, several of the other wiccans were aiding her in her project of helping Giles track down texts and artifacts of power, slowly rebuilding the Watcher Council's archives. Willow always teased him that he visited for the attention; she had a bit of a point. Most of her fellow witches had quite a hard time finding men that were comfortable around magick, and the younger of those had been quite taken with Xander. One in particular, Celeste, is who they would be visiting today.

They didn't need to look hard to find her; she was already waiting on the steps of their meeting hall, a beautiful wood-and-cobblestone building. Small orbs of light danced across the masonry, illuminating it despite the darkness of the day. Directly below the orbs, a young woman in a long red dress lounged back, watching them approach, playing with the light overhead. She was nearing thirty, but looked much younger. Her skin was pale, practically luminescent, nearly blending into the fairness of her hair, which looked almost white in the glow of her magick. Her eyes were dark gray, almost too dark for her face, and had a sense of depth to them that was quite unusual.

"Celeste, my lady!" Bounding up the stairs, Xander kissed her hand delicately, to her amusement. It was clear this was a ritual of sorts for them.

"Xander, my sweet pirate." Her voice was small and soft, but seemed to hum with energy. Stepping out of the car, Spike eyed her with interest.

Andrew glanced at her and whimpered softly, reclining the seat as far as it would go. "I'll stay in the car, she gives me the creeps."

Curiosity peaking, Spike walked up to introduce himself.

"This must be the vampire, the one who came back to earth… unexpectedly." She spoke slowly, eyeing him over, equally intrigued.

Spike felt his hair stand on end. "Someone's been telling stories about me, then?" He glanced coldly at Xander.

Xander and Celeste shared a smirk. "No, my pet." She whispered.

"She's a Seer, Spike." Xander explained. "She senses quite a bit, and usually knows beforehand if she's going to meet someone new."

"I see." Spike kept his body tense. He knew these games well, and currently far from appreciated the additional reminder. Deciding to speak as little as possible, he hung back slightly, letting Celeste and Xander continue their slightly flirtatious small talk.

"I was sad to hear that Willow was having trouble, we quite like her here."

"Would you be able to help us out with that, my wise one?" Xander winked at her, and she waved him off.

"I don't know _all_, Xander, but I can tell you a few things." She paused, closing her eyes. "For one, I don't sense that anyone within the coven wishes her ill. There are a few here that are jealous of her, of her beauty or of her power, but none that wish to harm her." She opened her eyes wide. "However, I can sense the presence of someone else with magick here, not at the coven, but in or near the city. Someone powerful. They are tied to Willow, but I don't know exactly how. I think they may be here because of her."

_Someone with magic, _thought Spike. _Not Dru. Maybe I don't even have to tell her..._

"Must be our Big Bad." Xander tapped his fingers. "Where can we find this bastard?"

Celeste looked disdainfully at Xander, but Spike was the first to speak.

"Doesn't work like that mate." Xander turned around, surprised. Spike was looking at him smugly. "She's not a sodding GPS, just thank her for what she's already told you, it'll be more than useful."

Celeste's eyes fixated on Spike, looking him over again with renewed appreciation. "Well, this one knows how to treat a lady." She purred.

Spike met her gaze, eyes cold. "Wouldn't be so sure about that, love." Turning around, his coat whipping behind him, he left the two, walking back to wait with Andrew in the car.

"Don't mind him." Xander said, starting to follow. "He's always like that."

At the Academy, Buffy and Willow had chosen a workspace as far away from Angel and Giles as possible.

"Here's something," Willow whispered, nudging Buffy. "It's a study that was done by a branch of our coven, back in the 1940s. Oh!" She exclaimed. "It looks like they were actually studying the phenomenon of Angelus becoming Angel."

The girls shared a look, lowering their voices further, although both men were well out of earshot.

"It says here," she continued. "That they were trying to figure out why Angelus was so evil without his soul, since some vampires kinda clung to their humanity more so than he did."

"Did they figure it out?"

"Um…" Willow trailed off, still reading. "Oh." She glanced at Buffy.

"Bad news?"

Willow's voice was nervous. "Well, they concluded that demons that were once human do actually keep their humanity in a sense, but the demon that takes over pushes them to act on dark instincts they already have. They can feel pain… and love… like humans can, but they have no conscience, so no motive to try to resist the 'evil within themselves.'"

Buffy closed her eyes, trying to fit Willow's words within her own history with Spike. '_What you feel isn't real'_ she had told him many times. '_You can't love', 'You're beneath me.'_ It was all true, how he'd felt… As real as it was now. A part of her had already suspected this, given how enthralled by her he still seemed after he was ensouled, but the confirmation left her feeling somewhat guilty. Spike had not been _good_, not really, but he was no Angelus. _Most people wouldn't have been able to resist that darkness as well as he had, or I'd be out of a job_.

Oblivious to Buffy's turmoil, Willow was still reading, keeping careful watch of Angel across the room. "They list in their final findings that Angelus is a unique case, and that the evil he's done in the past is... still something he's capable of. Ouch. I guess this doesn't help, does it?"

Buffy nodded. "Thanks Will."

"You know, this still doesn't mean Spike is going all 'dark side' again… But if you're nervous, you can definitely sleep in my room tonight. We'll all watch him. God knows Angel would _love_ a chance to…" She trailed off, realizing she was babbling again. Instead, she gave Buffy's hand a quick squeeze.

Buffy was silent for a few minutes, still thinking. _I still think he's keeping something from me… but I can't imagine him being like that again, not after everything we went through together. Is it wishful thinking to just trust him?_

"Will, shouldn't we be focusing on you?"  
Willow shrugged. "I don't know… I think Giles might be overreacting a little. Andrew found me locked in my own classroom last week, and Giles had been freaking out ever since. Doesn't seem that crazy to me… although, I don't really remember what happened after my last class, one moment the room was full, and the next, I was in an empty room and the lights were painfully bright… It happened a couple weeks ago too, after I watched one of Lindsay's classes. I don't remember the final bell, I just found myself standing in the parking lot, with a wicked headache…" She paused her story, seeing the concerned look on Buffy's face.

"That doesn't sound like nothing Will, I think Giles is right."

Willow looked solemn. "Well… I did think it was odd when Lindsay told me we had made lunch plans… I didn't even remember it, and trust me, I would've remembered asking her out, definitely vice-versa…" she paused, contemplating whether or not her theory was too crazy to voice. "I think I was talking to Lindsay the first time it happened. I have to wonder if it's got something to do with her. I don't sense any magick from her, but I might be too distracted by her to notice. Besides, it would explain why she'd even be interested in me in the first place...:"

Buffy thought for a moment. She didn't necessarily accept Willow's belief that Lindsay was 'out of her league,' but she also had no reason to trust a woman she'd never met. _Better be on the safe side._  
"Does Lindsay have anything she keeps here? Like a locker or something?"

Willow nodded. "We have full-on safes in the teacher's lounge, but she prefers to use the lockers in the training rooms. They assigned her a permanent one as a courtesy, usually students have to leave them empty at the end of the day."

"Let's go." Buffy stretched, signalling to Giles that they would be back soon, and the girls headed for the training rooms on the other side of the campus.

Willow was able to open the locker with a quick spell, noting with a glimmer of hope that there was no protective magick in place. Shifting her weight nervously, she stood guard at the door while Buffy searched. Weekend trainings had already become regular for some of the more advanced students, it would not be a surprise for a student or two to make an appearance during the holidays.

"Not seeing anything yet," Buffy called out. "Looks like my box at home - all weapons. Looks like hers are dulled for training though. I don't think-"

'_QUIET_.' Willow's voice entered her mind, and Buffy slammed the locker shut in shock, her hands jumping to cradle her head. Willow had done this sort of mental projection before, but it always felt somewhat invasive, even when it was expected. '_Someone's coming.' _

Whoever it was, Buffy was going to meet them first. Keys were turning at the _back _door of the locker room, and Willow was stationed at the main entrance, hoping to intercept any eager students.

'_They're coming in the back, Will_' Buffy thought as hard as she could, willing the other girl to hear her.

'_Oh God. Buffy, that's the staff entrance. Get out!.'_

Buffy was able to stand, leaping back from the locker, hoping it looked undisturbed. In any case, she didn't have time to fix it. The door opened slowly, and a beautiful young woman stumbled in, arms full of what looked like practice weapons. Instinctively, Buffy dashed over to help her.

If she was surprised to find the locker room occupied, she took it in stride. "Thank you!" She breathed out quickly, as Buffy grabbed a small stack of practice padding that was about to tumble from her arms. "...whoever you are?"

Buffy could hear the question. "Sorry, hi, I'm Buffy Summers, I-"

"You're _Buffy?_ I know who you are!" The girl was suddenly excited. "You're the slayer from California, _The_ Slayer. You're completely famous here." Dropping the last of her equipment, the girl grasped Buffy's hand, shaking it enthusiastically.

Looking her over, the girl's identity suddenly clicked. She was tall and slender, with tan, freckled skin and deep-set pale green eyes. Her delicate hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, ideal for a workout, and unmistakably a beautiful rosy blonde. "Oh!" She exclaimed.

The girl looked at her quizzically, and Buffy quickly continued. "I'm sorry, you must be Lindsay."

"... Have we met?"

"No, sorry." Buffy smiled. "I'm a friend of Willow's." She realized, with a touch of surprise, that the girl's grip was as strong as her own. "Are you a Slayer?"

"Yes." Lindsay smiled back. "Mr. Giles tracked me down about two months ago, while I was living in Arizona. I was a bit too old to be a student here, but when he found out I was working as a martial arts instructor, he offered me a job! I love it here, everyone's been so welcoming. Not to mention, it was getting hard to adjust to the increase in strength when I was working with, well, ordinary students."

"Imagine that! Willow never mentioned you were a Slayer."

"Willow mentioned me?" Lindsay blushed.

Hearing voices, Willow rushed back into the room, turning an impressive shade of magenta when she realized who Buffy was talking to.

"Willow!" Lindsay beamed, walking over to meet her with long strides, and pulling a stammering Willow into a tight hug. "I just met your friend Buffy, were you visiting to work? I told you that you should take a break once in awhile."

"Y-yes." Willow stared at her feet. Lindsay's smile was starting to falter; Buffy quickly stepped in, trying to rescue her friend.

"So, Lindsay, are you here for work too?"

Lindsay finally took her eyes off of Willow. "Yes, some of the girls were talking about getting some training in during break, they don't like to go too long between workouts. I offered to teach some extra classes since it's such a long break, so they've got me coming in every other day for the next three weeks, except Christmas and New Year's of course! Mr. Giles is even going to pay me since it's a holiday, but I just love it so much, I would've done it for free."

_Boy, this girl can talk!_ In contrast, Willow was staring at the floor as if she would never speak again, still faintly pink. Buffy smiled at her fondly, grabbing her by the arm and attempting to pull her into the conversation.

"Willow and I would just _love_ to watch your class! When does it start?" Willow looked up at Buffy, clearly panicking, but Buffy ignored her, smiling warmly at Lindsay.

"Oh, that's great! I got here a little early to set up and stretch, but you're welcome to take a seat on the benches, the girls should start filtering in within ten minutes or so."

Thanking her, Buffy half-dragged Willow to the plain wooden benches in the next room. The training room was expansive, around the size of the gymnasium back at Sunnydale High. Half the floor was covered in blue and red training mats, separated from the the rest of the room by a small lattice fence. The other half was covered in exercise equipment, various weights, beams, and other contraptions designed to enhance dexterity and strength. Buffy whistled softly to herself, slightly envious. _Giles did all this in a few months?_

"Xander did an amazing job, didn't he?" Now that Lindsay was out of the room, Willow was slowly regaining her ability to speak. "Andrew got us most of the equipment. He spent hours calling around, finding Giles some stuff he could grab for cheap or free. We don't have much of a budget yet, most of the old Council's funds went towards fixing up this place and affording staff… But many of the Watchers that didn't make it through the attacks had quite a stockpile."

"Right, Xander." She had almost forgotten her friend's skill. The room was clearly of solid construction to begin with, but the new additions were breathtaking.

"He made these too!" Taking a seat, Willow patted the bench next to her.

"Willow, I know you don't really want to talk about this, but I really don't think it's Lindsay doing this to you."

"I know… Is it bad that I almost hoped it was?" Buffy looked at her blankly, and Willow sighed, explaining. "I'm just so overwhelmed, I think I really like this girl, but I have no idea how to act around her. Not to mention, every relationship I've ever had has ended so horribly… I'm just not ready to go through all that again… and she's so _tall_, and _pretty..._"

Willow was trembling, and Buffy decided against pressing the issue further. Instead, she pulled Willow's head onto her shoulder, letting her friend breathe. _She's been through so much._

"I love you Willow."

Willow sat up, smiling faintly. "I know Buffy, I love you too."


	9. Game On

"Die die DIE!"

"There's more behind you Andrew!"

"Haven't you _bleeding imbeciles_ ever heard of _VAMPIRE HEARING?" _Spike's annoyance had reached the point where he was forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths just to keep his face looking human.

"Sorry Spike!" Xander and Andrew said in unison, before immediately screaming at the screen yet again.

"This is hell." Spike mumbled, head in his hands. "I'm cursed to live in hell with these stupid nancy boys as penance for my sins."

It was no sooner than the moment had Xander put his car in park that the clouds had finally parted, letting the afternoon sun beam down. Spike had been forced to retreat into the boys' apartment, where he'd already been stuck for what felt, to him, like days. Already in a foul mood over Buffy's inexplicable anger towards him, he busied himself with searching for any drop of booze he could find, cursing them both for only stocking the house with three lousy beers. _Lite beers, at that. _

"Goddamnit! Those little-" Xander was screaming again, Andrew mirroring him, jumping up and down like an excited puppy.

Spike had enough. "Give me that," he snarled, ripping the controller from Andrew. "I'll show you how to win this bitch."

An hour later, Spike's cocky smile lit up the room as the boys howled, egging him on. Xander in particular couldn't believe how much fun they were having. Spike had agreed to let them join in after lazily beating the level they'd been stuck on all afternoon, then proceed to teach them cheats he'd never heard of and wouldn't have believed if he hadn't seen them in action.

Still chortling after their latest win, Xander stood, grabbing his keys "Beer run! Any requests?"

"Yeah!" Spike's mouth was full of chips, crumbs scattering as he hastily swallowed. "Get me some whiskey, will you? I need something that burns."

It wasn't long before the training area was looking fairly full, from what Buffy could tell, nearly Lindsay's entire class had shown up for their extra training days. Around twenty girls in total now stood in rows facing her, as she led them into several different warm-ups and stretching exercises. Angel had poked his head in after around ten minutes; it hadn't taken him long to worry, but they waved him away, and he returned to study with Giles. Buffy's primary instinct had been to ask him to join them, still trying to alleviate some of the tension between them, but with Willow in such a fragile state she'd decided against it.

Lindsay's stretches began simply, starting with arms, waist, shoulders… By the time she'd moved on to the more complex leg stretches, Willow was again beginning to look uncomfortable, the faint pink color rising in her cheeks. Lying with one leg stretching behind her, and one leg tucked beneath her, Lindsay took a deep breath, looking up to meet Willow's eyes with a wide smile.

It was too much for Willow. Blushing furiously, she made a run for it, slipping out the side door and into the parking lot. Watching her go, Buffy decided to give her some air. _I'll check on her in a few minutes._

Lindsay had been watching too, and Buffy saw her trying to shake off concern and confusion. _And hurt. _Buffy couldn't help but feel a sudden rush of affection for Lindsay, as well as a touch of relief. Willow's 'little crush', to use her words, was definitely _not_ one-sided.

Outside, Willow was grateful for the rush of cold air. The sun was out, but it was bitterly cold, and the wind was swift and piercing. She took several deep breaths, letting her heart rate slow and her cheeks cool. The temperature was soothing for a few moments, but within seconds she was shivering violently. Clasping her hands together, she drew them apart slowly, a large orb of heat and light forming between her fingers.

She smiled, looking at it fondly. _This is one of my better ones. _She was still working on perfecting her portable sunlight idea, but lately, she'd taken to using it as a portable heater. It always seemed to make Giles nervous, however. He claimed he just 'didn't like the habit', but Willow could tell he was still wary of any 'unnecessary' magick use on her behalf.

She was only able to relish the magick for a few minutes before she was forced to extinguish it. Someone was approaching, too old to be a student, too young to be one of the parents, and definitely not a staff member. The woman appeared to be in her early thirties, dressed in a short red skirt, tall black boots, and thick tights. She was short, shorter than Willow, and moved enticingly. Willow's eyes slid over her body, noticing her ample curves.

"Willow, hard day?" She pushed curly black hair behind her ears, smiling brightly.

"Have we met?"

She gasped as if offended, plainly teasing, but there was something cold in her eyes, almost predatory. "Of course, my dear. But I'm not surprised you don't remember me."

Before Willow had a chance to run, the woman put her hands to Willow's forehead, and Willow's eyes glazed over, her face completely blank.

The woman smiled again, an almost feral smile, closing her eyes. "My name is Renata," she whispered. "But I'm not going to let you keep that memory, darling. I need your memory for other things." She hummed to herself softly. _If this is the one, dear, you may not have to see me again._

Buffy, never a patient person, watched Lindsay's class for almost ten more minutes before jumping onto her twitching feet, determined to find Willow whether she wanted to be found or not. Lindsay followed the movement, and quickly instructed her class to practice independently for a few minutes. Her long legs put her at Buffy's side within seconds.

"Buffy, wait!"

"Willow wasn't feeling well, so she stepped outside… I'm going to go look for her." She tried to speak as gently as she could, not wanting to give Lindsay any unwelcome impression, but didn't meet her eyes. Lindsay's hand caught Buffy's shoulder, forcing her to turn and look at her.

"I'm coming with you." It wasn't a question. Lindsay looked determined. She had a stubborn set to her jaw that even Buffy found slightly adorable. _I see it_, she thought sadly. _I get why this one reminds her of Tara. _

Buffy shrugged. "Fine." The last thing she wanted to do was push Lindsay away from Willow. She hadn't known her long, but Lindsay was clearly the kind of person who wore their heart on their sleeve. It would be good for Willow, and her confidence, if she were to allow a person like that into her life again.

Stepping out into the cold, Buffy's eyes took a moment to adjust to the scene in front of her. Lindsay reacted first, shrieking like a harpy, running headlong at Willow's attacker. The two were enveloped in a smoky blue cloud, crackling with energy, and Willow was now slumped, unconscious, against Renata. Before the smaller girl had time to react, Lindsay had flipped her over her hip from behind, sending her sprawling, and diving to catch Willow in the same motion.

Buffy took off running, nearly slipping on the loose gravel. The blue cloud had vanished the moment Renata had lost contact with Willow, but sparks were forming between the witch's fingers as she stood, her face contorted in a sneer.

"Good luck, my dear." Buffy leapt towards her, but caught only air. Renata was now ten feet away, splitting the air with condescending laughter, sparks dancing around her. She pulled a crystal from her blouse, hanging from her neck on a thin leather cord. The moment she touched it, she was gone again, leaving only smoke behind.

Furious and panting, Buffy turned back to Willow, who had opened her eyes. Lindsay was cradling her, petting her hair, speaking soothingly.

Buffy knelt down beside them. "Can you carry her?"

Lindsay nodded, picking up the semi-conscious Willow as if she were no larger than a pekingese. "Where are we taking her?"

"The library please, tell Giles we found our witch."

It had taken some convincing, but Buffy and Giles were finally able to talk Lindsay into finishing out her class, and letting them take Willow home to rest. The nerves seemed to have been shaken right out of their beloved redhead; she was quite flirtatious when she realized she had been carried back to the library, and even more so when Buffy continued to embarrass Lindsay by telling an embellished rescue story, to everyone's amusement. The energy between the two had relaxed substantially by the time they said goodbye, both promising to reunite again soon, under less tense circumstances. _Sometimes all it takes is a good ol' fashioned life-or-death experience. _

Giles was trying to keep up a good front for Willow, but he was clearly dying to question her, and his face was tight with fury whenever he thought they couldn't see him. Her 'symptoms' seemed consistent with the other incidents; she was left with a nasty headache, and couldn't remember the past ten minutes or so before coming to in Lindsay's arms. Before they left, Giles stopped to pull a couple books on 'memory magic' from the shelves, scoffing at Buffy's quip about 'signing the books out first.'

Willow had fallen back asleep by the time they arrived at the house, and was again carried by a Slayer, this time up to her bedroom. Giles buried himself in the books he'd brought and a few from his own personal collection, locking himself into his study while Buffy tucked Willow into bed, kissing her forehead, lost in thought.

Buffy was as eager as Giles was to help Willow, but she was used to taking action very differently. This witch was not something she really knew how to fight; in a time like this, they would be turning to Willow herself for assistance. Walking down the stairs, she felt her helplessness increase. This was not her domain, and she hated that. She also missed Spike bitterly, which only added to her confusion and frustration.

She was so lost in her jumbled thoughts that she almost didn't hear Angel coming in from the kitchen. Gently, he led her to the sitting room, silently offering her a few treats he'd stolen from Giles' pantry as they shared the couch. They sat like that for several minutes, Buffy not feeling up to speaking, and Angel not wanting to press her.

Finally, her wandering mind reached a question she couldn't answer on her own.

"Why would anyone be after Willow?"

"I thought about that when Giles first called, and honestly I'm surprised it even took this long," he admitted. "She put a target on herself when she activated the Slayers. That's the most powerful magical achievement this world has seen in centuries. There are things in this world that would love to use that power… not to mention, she's bound to have made enemies by being the one responsible for the activation of an anti-demon army."

Buffy nodded her understanding, leaning back against the sofa, to process his words. _I guess that's my fault._

"So, I would imagine it's the first option… or that witch-bitch would've just killed her." She shuddered, it wasn't a pleasant thought. _Remind me to never let Willow out of my sight again._

"Very likely."

They settled into another bout of tense silence, until Buffy's thoughts slipped into another tangle, one that Angel might be able to settle better than others.

"Angel… What was Spike like when you knew him?"

Angel winced. "Buffy, we can't talk about that."

"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't serious."

He stared at her for a few moments. A small jealous voice in his head was screaming to _ruin_ them, but he knew how wrong that was. The battle in his head was still raging on as he slowly began to speak. He started with small stories; he'd never met William Pratt the human, but Spike in the beginning was very different, still more human than anyone he'd ever seen after losing their soul. Her face was calm, surprisingly so, so he continued, explaining the slow evolution into the Spike she met in Sunnydale; the obsession with Slayers, and the competition between them that fueled it. She nodded through the stories she'd already heard, but her chest was getting tight as he moved on from familiar stories, speaking faster as the stories got more and more violent, describing Spike's growing lust for blood. For a while, she tried to keep track of the bodycount of the events he was relaying, but gave up somewhere in the thirties. She hadn't thought about Spike that way in a long time, and her breathing grew shallower and shallower as she tried to equate the monster to the man, that _psychopath_ to the person that had held her all night for many nights now. Her head began to spin, and she withdrew farther into the sofa cushions.

"Buffy, are you okay?"

She didn't answer. Somewhat remorseful, he put a hesitant arm around her. When she didn't push him away, he pulled her closer, until her head was resting on his shoulder. Her expression was unreadable.

He tried again. "Buffy?"

She shook her head against him. Pushing down his feelings of guilt, he let himself enjoy the contact; with the exception of their awkward hug the other night, he hadn't been this close to her in months. He'd missed her smell, the feeling of her heat, her breath and heartbeat through his clothes. Her outline burned into his body, and he relished it, holding her tighter, gently stroking her hair. His hands moved slowly from her hair to her arms, until he was holding her hand, still stroking her gently.

Sucking in a breath, she pulled her hand out of his in a sharp motion.

"Angel _what_ are you doing?"

"I'm sorry…" He tried to shake them off, but the feelings of longing were still there. He wanted her to come back, to put his head on his chest again. "I didn't mean anything by it."

She saw through him instantly, anger breaking through, and shoved him hard, using the momentum to send herself flying off the couch.

"Like _hell_ you didn't. You're still stuck on this, aren't you? I tried to give you space, made it as clear as I could that I just wanted us to be friends, and you keep doing this." Her speed increased, thinking of the other slights that she had previously tried to forgive. "You were going to hide Spike from me when I came to visit, and you showed up with _roses_. What were you trying to do?"

"Nothing Buffy, I swear." He jumped to his feet as well, adrenaline pumping. "I just wanted to give you _something_, anything, a nice evening… just talking, and… you know what, I don't feel guilty about that. I feel guilty about a lot of things in my life, but not that. You were _mine_, before you'd ever met him. I was there first."

She laughed. A furious, empty laugh. "Are you trying to tell me that you're in the right because you had _DIBS? _You are hundreds of years old, and you're acting like a child!" _Men really don't grow up, do they?  
_"Maybe." His anger was building too. "But you're one to talk, choosing him. What is that, some ridiculous Billy Idol fantasy? At some point here you're going to have to get over this little bad-boy phase, and when you do, you'll realize I was right. He's not good enough for you."

Buffy glared at him, but her mouth couldn't settle on any of the hundreds of angry retorts pouring through her mind. Sick of words, she pulled back a hand and slapped him square across the jaw, putting as much of her strength behind it as she could muster.

Before Angel had a chance to respond, she turned and ran back up the stairs and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Angel watched her go, still shaking with fury.

Giles' door flew open. He paused for a moment at the door to the bathroom before rushing down the stairs, finding Angel pacing the living room in full game-face, still wringing his hands.

"What on earth is going on? I heard screaming."

"Ask _her._ She asked me to tell her about Spike, I just answered her questions. It's not my fault that her _boyfriend_ is a mass murderer…" Angel took a deep breath, trying to regain his human features.

"You did _what?_ Angel…"

"Don't look at me like that, it isn't anything she hasn't faced before."

Giles frowned. "Angel, you know well enough that Spike concerns me, but you have to find a way to settle this as adults. Buffy is not a toy for you two to fight over, she's a grown woman."

"Exactly!" Angel's pacing resumed, still inhuman. "She's a grown woman, and all I did was tell her _some_ of what Spike did. He's killed people, some of them _recently_, and she deserved to know the details. She's a big girl, she should know what she's getting into."

"Angel." Giles touched his shoulder. "You saw Buffy after the Hellmouth closed, she was distraught. She's not the girl you remember. I think she's still recovering."

_I'm going to break this door by the time I leave…_ Buffy checked it for damage ruefully, hoping Giles would understand. Small cracks were visible at the hinges, wood showing through the white paint. _Nothing compared to some of the damage I've caused before... Maybe I can ask Xander to help me fix it before he notices. _

Turning to the sink, hoping that a splash of cold water would cool some of her temper, the stories Angel had told her came rushing back, detail after gory detail. She'd heard stories like that before, but something was different this time. This time they _bothered_ her. Not only that, they made her sick.

She knelt down. They were in her head, all of them. Screaming, dying, begging for mercy from the one person she was trying so hard to trust. It was too much, and the nausea overtook her like it had on the plane. Giving in, she waited for it all to stop, and then pulled off her blouse and jeans. Crawling into the shower still half-dressed, she sat on the floor of the tub and closed her eyes.

Downstairs, Giles' words were slowly sinking in for Angel. His anger fading, it was replaced by overwhelming guilt. Angel stood, looking at the window; it had finally gotten dark enough for him to leave on foot. With an understanding nod from Giles, he rushed for the door, nearly running over Spike in the doorway.

"Watch it!"

"Sorry," Angel mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

Spike watched him flee, shaking his head. He looked around curiously as he entered the house. It was still early in the evening, but the house seemed so… asleep? He could smell Buffy and Willow, but he couldn't hear them, and the only person he could see was Giles, still sitting awkwardly on the sofa.

"What happened in here? This place is like a funeral home. Don't tell me somethin' happened to Red." He joined Giles on the couch, kicking up his feet.

Giles didn't answer. In the silence, Spike picked up another sound, barely perceptible over the rush of water: crying. _Buffy?_

He jumped to his feet. "Where's Buffy?"

Giles attempted to gently pull him back to a seated position, but Spike shook him off roughly, already turning towards the stairs.

"Spike, DON'T-" Giles called after him, but Spike wasn't listening. He reached the bathroom door in three bounds, listening for a moment before trying the knob. It wasn't locked.

Buffy was curled up on the floor of the shower, her head tucked between her knees. Spike could _feel_ the pain radiating from her.

Pulling off his shirt and jeans with one hand, he crawled in with her, pulling her to his chest. She tucked her head into the crook of his arm, still shaking. The water was too cold, he couldn't tell if she was shaking from emotion or just the chill of it, but the knob to adjust it was slightly out of reach, and she was leaning on him heavily. Instead he wrapped her in his arms tightly, covering as much of her skin as he could. He wished intensely that he could offer her some body heat, but it seemed to help her slightly either way. Slowly, her shaking stopped.

"What's wrong, love?" He whispered it into her wet hair, repeating himself softly when she didn't respond for over a minute.

"It's too much." She whispered back. "It's too complicated, I don't know what's right and isn't anymore. I just want things to be normal."

Spike sucked in air. "I can't offer you normal, Goldilocks. But if this is too hard, and you need me to go, just say the word. You know I'd do anything for you." _Even if it kills me._

She pulled away to look at him, and he took advantage of his chance, leaning farther over her to turn up the temperature. The sudden increase in heat, combined with the familiar smell of his chest, sent a soothing tingle through her body, bubbling into her extremities. She didn't _want_ him to go, but after everything she'd heard that evening, a low voice in her head spoke more prominently than her own need. Soulless Spike, the killer, was in there somewhere. She put her hands on his chest, pushing herself out of his arms.

"Buffy, what are you doing?" Confused, he reached for her again on instinct. Panicking, she shoved him again, harder, slamming him into the wall. He felt a moment's rage, reaching for her again, then froze. Another memory hit him harder than she ever could: their last fight in a bathroom. Overwhelmed by the memory and fearing his own temper, he fled, shrugging back into his clothes on his way through the doorway.

Some part of Buffy had needed him gone, but the moment he was, she felt his absence as a dull ache. Turning the water off, she wrapped herself in the nearest towel, walking across the hall to crawl into bed, still damp and puffy-eyed.

It was too early still to sleep, and a half-hour or so later when Giles knocked on her door, she was still very awake. He took a place on the bed beside her, setting a second cup of tea on the bedside table, and taking a long sip of his own before speaking.

"Buffy, I'm not going to get involved with this, not again." He promised. "But as I told you once, I love you like a daughter, and I will be right across the hall if you need me."

He kissed her forehead gently, and then he was gone. Buffy lay still for a few minutes, reaching for the tea when the warmth of his comforting words was beginning to fade. She felt the warmth return as she drank, and before long, had finally slipped off into sleep.

Spike opened the door as silently as he could, but even a practiced predator's step was too heavy for a Slayer in fitful sleep. The moment his foot landed inside the room, she shot up in bed, staring at him in the dark. The only thing she could see for a moment was his blonde hair, practically glowing in the small amount of light from the windows in the hall. As her eyes adjusted, he came into slow focus, and she could just barely make out the color of his eyes.

"Don't mind me, pet." He whispered. "I'm just here for dry clothes, then I'll be right out of your pretty hair... it's snowing out there. I'll take Peaches' spot on the couch."

"No." She whispered back.

"No?"

"Stay." Her voice was so small, it tugged on his heart. "I can't sleep without you."

Spike slipped out of his wet clothes, pulling on a dry pair of black sweatpants before obeying her, tucking himself around her under the blankets. Normally, he preferred to sleep without clothes at all, but given Buffy's unpredictable moods of late, he didn't want to risk upsetting her in any way. It was clear fairly quickly that it would not likely have bothered her, however. She pulled off her still-damp bra, and tucked her hands into his waistband along his lower back, pulling him closer to her so that more of their skin touched.

Relieved, but still somewhat confused, he was almost scared to ask the question, but he couldn't hold it back. He'd spent hours already wondering as he wandered around, trying to cool off.

"Buffy, please tell me what happened today."

She sighed. "Angel and I… got in a fight."

Spike tensed. "He made you feel like _that?_ I'll kill him, I will. I'll bloody well enjoy it, soul or no soul."

"No, don't." Buffy smiled weakly. "It's not all his fault. I asked him to tell me stories… about you. I don't know what I was expecting, but some of the things he was telling me just _got_ to me…" Spike didn't answer, but didn't relax either, just listened intently. "He noticed that it was bothering me, and tried to comfort me, tried a little too much actually… and we got in a fight about it. He still doesn't like us being together, which is fair I suppose, but I told him to leave it alone. I shouldn't have asked him to talk about it though, I know it put him in a weird position."

"Prat." Spike shook his head, still tense. "We called a truce, you know. On the plane. Said we weren't gonna be fighting over you anymore… Figures he'd drop that when it suited him most."

He moved his hands tighter around her, finding the wet towel still wrapped in the sheets, and throwing it off the bed unceremoniously. Buffy giggled, snuggling closer.

"Why would you even ask about that?" Spike asked.

She hung her head. _It all seems so silly now…_ "I don't know… I guess I got worried that you might be missing the old days? Being here?"

Spike laughed outright. "You crazy bint!" Buffy elbowed him hard, a hit that would've winded him if he needed to breathe. Regardless, it did somber him a little, and he sighed. "Actually, if anything, being here makes me feel soft. Especially being here with you… I was starting to worry that if we stayed too long, I might not be rough n' tumble enough for you anymore. I couldn't take it if you thought I went all 'kittenish' like Captain Cardboard… Every girl I ever loved thought I was too soft for her in the end."

"Riley wasn't-" Buffy stopped herself. _Not the time._ "Spike, that isn't going to happen with me. After everything, I am _relieved_ when I see your softer side."

Spike grumbled. "I don't know, sweetheart. I think if you'd met William Pratt the human you'd never have looked twice at him."

"William _PRATT?_ That was your last name? You were just destined to be a pain in my ass, weren't you?"

In answer, he growled animalistically, flipping her over on the bed and kissing her neck and shoulders mock-ferociously. Buffy cried with laughter, clapping a hand over her own mouth; it was past midnight, everyone else was probably asleep.

From the study across the hall, Giles smiled to himself. It was nice to hear Buffy laugh.


	10. The Witch and the Nancy Boy

_A/N: Tuck in for a super-long chapter! My apologies in advance, it just turned out this way! -AAxis_

The first rays of sunlight woke Giles, and he sheepishly pulled himself off of the book he must've used as a pillow for the night. He was still sitting at his desk, a half-drunk cup of cold tea to his right. 'Advanced Guide to Mental Magick' must've put him to sleep. _Mr. 'A. Shereshevsky' has quite a skill, being able to make a boring text out of a subject such as that._ Stiff and groaning, he picked up his teacup, stretching lightly as he made his way downstairs to start a fresh pot. _Getting old, Rupert._

The kitchen was already filled with a quiet buzz of morning energy. A fresh pot of water was already nearing boil on the stovetop, and a tray of steaming scones sat beside it. The culprit, Angel, sat at the counter, almost through eating. He may not need to eat such things to survive, but sometimes a fresh, hot breakfast could do a world of good after a rough night.

"Feeling better?" Giles asked, nodding at him briskly as he readied a new selection of tea leaves.

Angel shook his head, staring at his plate with tired eyes. "Sun's up." He looked up at Giles, who sighed knowingly. "How is she?"

"She's fine." Giles flicked off the heat, filling his mug with water and setting it down to steep. "Could do with an apology, I'm sure."

Angel winced at his tone. "She'll get one."

"Good." Giles took a large bite of scone, carefully smoothing his mussed shirt. Footsteps started upstairs, and Buffy came into view, smiling brightly at Giles as she followed him into the kitchen. Her smile fell slightly when she saw Angel, but his contrite look must've helped; she waved at him half-heartedly, recovering most of her initial cheeriness.

Angel stood. "Buffy, I'm so-"

"Save it, Angel. It doesn't matter, and we aren't getting into it again. We all have a lot of darkness in our pasts, and if I'm going to forgive his, I'll forgive yours too." She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, removing it just as quickly. _Let's not test fate. _

"Spike will be down in a minute, we've had the same talk. So _play nice._"

Nodding sheepishly, Angel accepted a mug of tea from Giles as Willow and Spike filtered into the kitchen, following the sound of conversation. Even still in her pajamas, Willow looked beautiful, happy, and well-rested, all the more so in contrast to Spike, who looked grumpy and disheveled, glaring at Angel as though he very much resented Buffy's offer of a renewed truce and was already feeling the temptation to break it.

Willow babbled her nervous good-mornings, not knowing the reason for the odd energy in the room, and not wanting to ask. She grabbed a biscuit for herself, then ran quickly out of the room in search of the house phone; she'd promised to call Lindsay the moment she'd woken up.

"So, Giles," said Buffy. "Did you wind up finding anything out last night?"

"I, er, no… not really. I was getting rather drowsy towards the end, but I did find a mention of crystal magic such as what you'd described in a couple of older texts. Apparently it was quite popular in the middle east and eastern Europe in the early 19th century - not for teleportation, but for what's called 'suggestive-control', a form of mind-control and... mind-reading."

Buffy spoke slowly. "So… Like our vamp back in L.A.?" She went over the memories in her head, comparing the two encounters. "Well… they were both… um… blue."

Giles looked at her witheringly. "Not exactly a sure guarantee of their connection… though the nature of the magick was similar, I'll give you that. It would certainly explain Willow's memory loss and headaches, if someone was poking around in her mind. Though I can't imagine what the purpose would be, aside from controlling her completely, and it doesn't seem like that's been attempted."

"Maybe Willow has become too powerful for that?"

"Hang on," said Spike, rubbing his temples. "Crystal magic, eastern Europe, a vampire _and_ a witch? Sounds like this duo that was running around here back when Dru and I were still wreaking havoc on Singapore. It was why we left London, actually, they were too bold, drawing attention. People got all careful."

"The Shereshevskys?" Angel was clearly somewhat apprehensive of the name. "That was over a hundred years ago, you think they're still around?"

Spike shrugged. "We are."

"Did you say Shereshevsky?" Giles darted upstairs, returning with his wrinkled book. "That's the author of this, isn't it?"

Spike leaned over, glancing at the title, and at Angel. "No." He said, with a know-it-all smirk. "That's their mum. Alexei. Matronly sort. Didn't want her 'proper' little daughter playing with magick, I remember. Even to save her poor brother, when he got himself bit. Sired 'round the same time as me, actually." He grinned at Angel. "Your work?"

Angel clenched his jaw. "No, that was countries out of my territory." _It's a fair question, I'll give him that._ "I can't even remember their names… but I'll admit it fits."

"Wait, slow down." Buffy snapped her fingers. "The one that's after Willow wasn't a vampire, I'd know. How could she be over a hundred years old?"

"Sold her soul." Spike and Angel answered in unison.

Glaring at Angel, Spike continued alone. "Her brother was turned, and she couldn't bear to part with him, so she sold her soul to this demon bloke in exchange for eternal youth, so they could stay together. At least, those were the rumors at the time. _That_ was new, got them quite famous in some circles, especially when word got out that 'little sis' was just as good a witch as dear old mum."

"Oh, God." Buffy groaned. "So you're saying that this century-old crazy witch with no soul is _already_ after Willow, and I may have just killed her brother?"

The group sobered.

"Wouldn't want to be Willow when the witch finds out." Spike quipped, earning dirty looks all around the table.

"What about me?" Willow hung awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen, clutching the receiver to her chest.

"Nothing, hun, really." Buffy opened her arms, and Willow moved towards her friend, stopping to hand the phone to Angel.

"I had to hang up with Lindsay… Wes is on the phone, he needs to talk to you. He wouldn't tell me, but it sounds serious. Must be, with how late it is over there."

Angel nodded, taking the phone back out of the room.

Spike craned his neck, perking up in an attempt to hear the conversation. Noticing, Buffy pinched him, and he drew back into his seat, matching her cross look with one of his own.

Willow ignored Spike. Fit to bursting with her own excitement, she grabbed Buffy's arm. "Guess who has a date?"

"Hmmm, Giles?" Buffy teased.

"As if!" Willow chortled, then blushed, realizing Giles was still in the room. "Sorry, Giles," she mumbled. Addressing them all, she continued. "Lindsay wants to meet me at Park Cinema at 11, she knows a place near there that serves sandwiches and coffees for lunch afterwards. I should be able to meet back up with you guys around 2 or so?"

The boys mumbled their vague agreement, and Buffy beamed at Willow, giving her a quick hug to show her support for the idea.

Re-entering the room, Angel moved like a dead man walking. All eyes quickly locked onto him with bated breath, wondering what could have had such an effect so quickly.

"I shouldn't have left."

"What happened, what did Wesley want?" asked Giles.

Angel gave a resigned sigh. "There was a break-in, after hours, into a high-security W&H storage facility, the night we left… Wes didn't want to bother me with it until they had tried to recover it, which just failed... They think it's the same vamp crew we've been running into. They only took one thing… I didn't even know it existed..." He shot a sideways glance at Spike, nodding in his direction. "There's another amulet apparently. Even more powerful than the one I gave Buffy, and more dangerous. The senior partners think that it's capable of reversing the work of the original… it could re-open the Sunnydale Hellmouth. Might even bring back the town itself. If it did, it would leave an empty town right on top of a Hellmouth… demon paradise."

A hush fell over the group, as they each contemplated the consequences, good and bad, of such a result. Unsurprisingly, Giles was the first to speak.

"Well, that makes a lot of sense, actually…" Seeing several clueless eyes, he cleaned his glasses and continued, audibly exasperated. "If someone is pursuing a reversal of the events of that day, and they need Willow, they're likely wanting to reverse the activation as well. We'll all go back to the library today, see what we can dig up on both of the amulets. I believe I've exhausted my resources here."

Willow's face fell. "Does this mean I need to cancel my date?"

"No, no," said Buffy quickly. She looked ferociously at Giles, ready to intercept any argument, but none came. "Spike and I were going to go pick up Dawn around then anyway, you can meet us at the library _after_ your date. I don't think anyone will go after you with Lindsay around, not after last time."

"Right, yes…" said Giles. "I suppose that will be fine."

"Then it's settled." Angel groaned faintly, stretching his back. "We'll give ourselves a little time to recoup, then we'll be on our way."

"I don't know I'll be needing that," Spike whispered huskily, leaning down so only Buffy could hear him. "I slept like a baby last night… after awhile, anyway."

Buffy shot him a look, but she was smiling as she excused herself to claim the first shower of the day.

By the time they were all fed and showered, and Buffy had coached Willow through four or five outfit changes, a heavy snowfall was beginning to settle over London. Xander and Andrew picked up Giles and Angel so that Willow could have Giles's car for her big date, and to give Spike and Buffy space to pick up Dawn in Willow's car. Xander had offered to pick up Dawn instead, but Buffy knew if the news about the amulet came from anyone else (or with the slightest delay), Dawn would be fuming.

Spike was a level of cheerful rarely seen. Buffy could've sworn she heard him _humming_ to himself as he helped Giles collect his notes, Willow find her keys... keeping busy by helping whoever needed him most at the moment. The moment Willow had gone, Buffy sat and watched him happily, wondering why she'd doubted his contentment. _The man's all bark_, she thought, smiling to herself.

Catching her, Spike broke into an even wider smile. His eyes hardly left her as they waited patiently for Xander's car to pull away. The moment it had, he swept her up in a long kiss. After everything that had passed between them the previous night, it felt like a breath of air. Buffy sighed as they pulled apart, yawning instinctively in her body's attempt to refill her depleted lungs. Grinning evilly, Spike pulled her off of the kitchen stool, carrying her in his arms out to the waiting car and ignoring her halfhearted protests.

The drive from Giles's estate into the city limits was short, but no less beautiful. The snow had settled onto the rolling hills and the trees, seeming to glitter despite the lack of sunlight. What struck Buffy the most was the heavy _silence_ it created. The only sound other than the car was her own breathing. Beside her, Spike had to resist the temptation to close his eyes, and enjoy the peace: listening to nothing but the hum of the car, Buffy's breathing, and her relaxed, even heartbeat.

"So," said Buffy, breaking the long, contented silence. "Where did you live around here?"

"Over the years? Dozens of places. Angelus was adept at finding little hideouts, we were never short on-"

"No." Buffy cut him off. "As a human?"

"Oh." Spike looked around, they were just entering the city's outer residential area, near Xander's home. Most of the homes around were half his age, or even younger. "Honestly Buffy, I couldn't tell you now. So much has changed here in a hundred years, and I spent so much of that time trying to forget about it. I'll clue you in if I see anything I recognize." He paused, thinking. "I do remember the name of the street, it was called 'River Lane'... we could see if it's still standing when we get back to the library I suppose."

Buffy nodded. Her curiosity was unsatisfied, but she could tell that he had no further information to give her on the subject. Instead, her eyes explored the snowy cityscape, a rare and beautiful sight for anyone who had grown up in the warmer parts of California. She rested her hand on Spike's leg as he drove, appreciating the snow all the more for its convenience.

"Spike?"

"Yes, darling?" He responded in sarcastic mock-propriety, teasing her, smiling at the tight squeeze she gave his leg in response.

"Have you ever wanted to come back here?"

He studied her face, trying to discern her meaning. There were many possible implications to the question. _Was she still worried that he missed his glory days? Or did she mean to ask where he'd prefer to live now? If that was the question… did she intend to come with him, when he settled down? _Buffy squirmed under his gaze, which nearly went on long enough for her to demand he return his eyes to the road ahead, but he finally did so just before she opened her mouth to do just that.

"I just mean…" she added. "With so much sun… and Angel... where you're living... somewhere like London, or even Cleveland-" she cut herself off, blushing furiously.

"Yes." Spike felt a rush of joy, realizing which question it had been, and he fought to keep his face from betraying just how excited he was by the idea. "Los Angeles was never meant to be permanent, I just didn't have anywhere better to go right then… I'd fantasize often about getting back here, but I damn well couldn't ask Peaches to spot me the cash I'd need… Not if I was to be doing things in the proper good-boy manner."

"I'd imagine going back to living with him now would be… a bad idea."

"Fucking right." Spike laughed, shaking his head, showing off his trademark mischievous look. "I don't suppose I could just follow you home, love?"

Buffy took a deep breath to steady herself. "...What if we just stayed here? I don't have much in Cleveland, and lately I'm not very sure what I was doing there for so long… Here I've got Dawnie, and Giles, and Willow and Xander… and if you came with me…" she trailed off again. _God, I've got to get better at all this emotional crap. Why is he such a natural at the big emotional speeches?_

"Our own flat, not with Glasses, right?" Spike found her hand, running his fingers over it dreamily. "God, I would love that. But I don't care where we go, love. I'm not leaving you again. No getting rid of me now." _She just asked me to move in with her… did that really happen?_

Unable to think of a suitable response, Buffy just smiled, folding herself into the passenger seat.

They were still a ways from where Dawn was staying; as Spike had put it, when he was given the address, she was 'deep in the posh part of town.' The homes they passed were beautiful, a mix of modern construction and lovingly restored older buildings, blending together smoothly. Most of the street fixtures and fences were unmistakably dated, and Buffy closed her eyes, still trying to picture him as a human, roaming down these streets…

Her eyes snapped open as Spike turned the car sharply, heading deeper into one of the winding neighborhood blocks. For a moment she wondered if he knew some shortcut that she didn't, but the jerking motion with which they'd veered off course suggested otherwise; Spike was typically a smooth driver, at least with herself or Dawn in the car.

Confirming her suspicion, Spike sped down two more blocks before coming to a jolting stop, parked quite crookedly, in front of a large, old-Victorian townhome. Jumping out, he stood on the walkway, staring up at the building with an unreadable expression. Wishing she was wearing something other than old tennis shoes and jeans, Buffy climbed out of the car to follow him, trying to ignore the cold seeping through to her already-soaked feet.

"S-Spike?" He didn't answer, still staring ahead. Buffy glanced around them. The snow was falling faster now, sticking in small piles, but she could still make out the small black and white street sign on the corner. _River Lane. Oh. _She hung back for a few more moments, unsure if she should keep her distance.

He didn't keep her waiting long before turning around, pulling her absentmindedly to his side. "Ponces went and changed the colour… Lilac. She'd have hated that… and those bloody awful _curtains_." He whistled softly to himself. Taking Buffy's hand, he finally noticed how badly she was shivering. Wishing bitterly again he could warm her up properly, he settled for wrapping her tightly in his duster, squeezing her between his arms to shut out some of the wind.

"What would you have been doing in there on a day like this?" She whispered.

Spike scoffed to himself. "Probably writing poetry or some other nancy-hobby." He mumbled. Too loudly to go unheard, though he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"Poetry?"

"...Yes." He sighed. "I warned you, love. I told you I would've been too soft for you in those days…"

Buffy tried to hold it back, but she broke into a fit of loud giggling. She couldn't stop - after all she'd seen him do, heard him say... it was too much to imagine the Spike she knew sitting down to write poetry on a snowy day. Spike bristled at first, entirely offended, but she just pulled him closer, covering him everywhere she could reach with small kisses until she finally got a smile out of him.

"Spike," she gasped out finally, wiping her eyes. "Trust me, if you'd seen _me_, before I was a Slayer, you would've _hated_ me. I was so much worse than that… I was a shallow little queen bee, totally useless. Couldn't have slayed a rabbit."

"We'd have been a pair." He finally joined her, laughing a little at the image of Buffy, the socialite princess. Of course, in his mind, he pictured her instinctively as a socialite of his time, dressed as Cecelia would have been. The thought made him shudder. _Had enough of that type to last an unlifetime…_ "I was an awful poet too... that's why they called me 'William the Bloody,' you know... they said it to mock my 'bloody awful' poetry… Even the girl I was sweet on used to use it."

"Really? The book of vampires Giles had found when you first came to Sunnydale said that was because of your 'unmatched bloodlust.'" She wiggled her fingers to show the air-quotes.

"That stuck? Thank _GOD, _I went to wild lengths to spread that rumour!"

Buffy laughed, but her shivering had worsened as the cold sunk deeper into her extremities. Noticing her plight, Spike tore himself away from his former home, giving it one last, long look. It was time to look to the future, and she was all that mattered in his.

"Next! Hello, can I help you ma'am?"

"I certainly hope so." Her voice was sickly sweet, but something about her set the other woman's hair standing on end. "Package for Shereshevsky? S-h-e-r-e-s-h-e-v-s-k-y."

The clerk typed for a moment, frowning at her screen, and retreating into a back room. She returned with a small package and a large, forced smile.

"Must be excited, just processed this one not twenty minutes ago. Overnight air."

"Very."

Renata took the package, a small rectangular box, moving to the exit as quickly as she could without drawing undue attention to herself.

Ducking into an alleyway, she picked up speed. The city was a bustling hive of activity at this time of the day; an extra rush of the population had ventured out for Christmas shopping. Even from between huge stone buildings, the din was remarkable. Even louder, she could sense the speed of the Underground below.

Gripping the package tightly, she kicked aside the rusty latch and dropped down into a well-hidden manhole. Giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, she followed a glimmer of dim light deeper underground. As she walked, the faint smell of blood and dated perfume strengthened, and she wrinkled her nose. A century on of living with demons and vampires, and the stench still bothered her. Her newest ally in particular had a distinct aroma; old rosewater, dried blood, and a certain sense of _insanity_ that was unrivaled by anyone the witch had previously aligned herself with, human and demonkind alike.

When they'd first been approached by the other vampire, she had wanted to turn her away flat. The idea of teaming up with a demon crazier than her own dear brother was… _unattractive_, to say the least. However, the idea she'd brought forth had been too tempting to resist. Their beloved London, which had been their home for over a century, was now overrun by young, brash Slayers. There had already been several close calls between the young brats and her beloved Daniel, too close for comfort. The deal had been simple; London would belong to them, Slayer-free, and in exchange, they would make the spell a two-parter: bringing back Sunnydale, a ghost-town on a Hellmouth, for the other vampire to rule over.

"Is that you out there, bringing presents?" A sweet voice called from around the corner, sending goosebumps up and down Renata's arms.

Ducking through the low doorway and into their makeshift town-hideout, Renata faced a scene that disgusted her completely. A young girl, dressed in a pretty, skin-tight red dress, dangled from the wall by her neck. Her exposed throat was slashed in several places, and the lines of coppery-red dripping down from the wounds had dried in vulgar streaks.

The dark room smelled of blood, vodka, and rosewater. The girl must've been out clubbing for the night; the scent of alcohol was still wafting from her more strongly than it did from the bottle on the makeshift nightstand, next to the bed that her partner-in-crime was lounging back on, running her fingers through her own hair. A male vampire was massaging her feet dutifully, shirtless, and covered in long, deep scratch marks. Blood was still dripping from some of the deepest on his back, and the female vampire absently licked drying blood from her own fingernails as she watched him scramble to comply with her requests.

"Drusilla." Renata's voice was cold. "I told you I was coming right back, couldn't you have waited to play with your _toys?_ You know I can't stand this smell…"

"So sorry, Rennie," said Drusilla dreamily. "I get so excited when I remember what we're going to do, and we're getting so very close. Sweet Daniel would've celebrated with me… I thought of him with this one… he loved the color red."

"Don't you _dare_ mention my brother, not when you're cavorting around with this… _scab."_ With a sharp flick of her wrist, a blue cloud formed around the male vampire's neck, separating his head from his body with a sickening sound, and covering the bedspread with a thin film of ash. Renata faltered, panting, utterly drained by the spell. _Self-control, I'll need all the power I have for what's coming, _she chided herself.

Drusilla pouted, sticking out her bottom lip and kicking the dust from the bed and onto the floor.

"So very _rude_ Rennie, I quite liked that one. He reminded me of my Spikey… so _obedient..._"

In answer, she threw the package onto the bed at Drusilla's side, dropping herself onto the arm of the filthy chair beside the bed. Drusilla excitedly tore apart the box, laughing happily as she pulled the ornate amulet from it's packaging. Instead of gold and milky-gray, the metal was charcoal-black, and the center stone was a large ruby, with a small spot of what looked like smoke deep in the center of the gem. She clutched it to her chest with a satisfied sigh.

"Lovely Daniel, you always come through for me… even from beyond this world." She peeked at Renata from beneath long eyelashes. The witch was still leaning, breathlessly, against the chair.

"We won't need to associate with each other much longer," said the witch. "I saw _the_ Slayer yesterday, she's finally arrived in London. If we can get our hands on that bloody Scythe, we won't even need the useless redhead."

Drusilla examined her companion doubtfully before closing her eyes, searching her own memory.

"My visions said that it's only possible with the little witch… Your power alone is not enough. We need hers… the weapon has power, but needs a soul..." She stared at Renata, sending shivers down her spine. "This isn't ordinary jewelry, remember? It will kill you quite easily if you're not very, very careful."

Renata tried not to let the other woman see how unsettled she was, watching Drusilla whisper sweet nothings to the amulet. Why her Daniel had been so attached to this _freak_, she would never understand, but she was determined that his death wouldn't be for nothing. She would see this through for him, like she always had.

"God_damn_ this utterly useless contraption… Willow should be here, not cavorting around town going to cinemas and coffee shops…"

"Just because you can't figure out anything invented this century doesn't mean Willow can't have a life. She's been working herself sick all month, let her have this." Xander quickly jumped to his friend's defense. He'd been thrilled when Willow had excitedly told him that she and Lindsay were going on their first real date - things just hadn't been the same with Willow, not since Tara. More than anyone else, he'd missed seeing her so happy.

Giles frowned, but didn't retort, knowing he'd crossed a line. The tension was forgotten quickly, as Angel called out for them to join him at his computer.

He pointed to a blurry picture on the screen. The photograph was black and white, but it was clear that the set of amulets were not quite the same; one was much darker, the cut of the stone was sharper and cleaner.

"This says they're called the '_Drych Enaid_,' the 'Soul Mirrors'- they date back to right around when I was born." He pulled back a little so the others could read over his shoulder. "Looks like the one I gave Buffy is known as the 'Champion's' amulet."

"Oh God…" Giles read and reread the information over carefully, making sure he understood every word. "They can bend _reality_ as we know it… drawing their power from the wearer's soul. They accomplish the task they are given but kill the wearer doing so."

"Ouch." Xander leaned forward, squinting. "So if Spike's necklace saves the day, the big-bad one does what, exactly?"

Angel scrolled down slowly, all of them huddling around the screen. "Looks like there is only one recorded use of it, and it hasn't been heard of since 1845. I wonder how Wolfram and Hart even got ahold of it… The time it was used before was apparently the cause of the great famine in Ireland… the person who did it was an Englishman trying to revenge himself on a pair of Irish brothers that kidnapped his daughter for her beauty and let her starve when she refused to cooperate with their demands… he took it out on all of Ireland, screaming that they 'all deserved to starve' as he died…"

Giles furrowed his brow, leaning back. "So the other one is a tool of vengeance?"  
"This says that it 'bends reality to mirror the blackest desire of the wearer's soul'... the light one does the opposite… It's strange, it looks the other amulet has been used many times, and Spike's the only one who's lived."

Xander's eyes widened. "So wait, Spike really did _want_ to die for us?"

"Not exactly," Angel grumbled. "He didn't know he was going to die…"

Giles sat back up, scanning the screen. "That's not quite fair, Angel. '_The Champion's amulet brings to life the truest wish of the wearer's soul'-_ it's right there."

"So, he just wanted Buffy to get what she wanted. It's got nothing to do with anyone else, he just did it-"

"Enough, Angel," Giles snapped.

"Speaking of Buffy…" Xander added. "Shouldn't they be here by now?"

Trying to snap himself out of his own wistful mood, Spike had turned up the radio as loud as it would go, singing along loudly and badly to a rock song Buffy had never heard before. Struggling to keep her annoyance to herself, Buffy was grateful when they finally reached the large building Dawn was waiting in front of, arms crossed huffily.

Behind Dawn, four or five girls her age were huddled, eyeing Spike with interest. With a casual wave, Spike shot them a wink, sending them scattering backwards into the building, the braver ones waving back while the shyer girls giggled and hid. Rolling her eyes, Dawn dragged her bag into the car, flinging it roughly onto the seat beside her.

"Hey Bit, how's it going?"

Dawn scowled at him. "You just _had_ to embarrass me, didn't you?" She turned to her sister. "Doesn't help that you were nearly twenty minutes late, where've you been?"

"Sorry Dawnie. Got distracted." She smiled at Spike, before quickly trying to backpedal, realizing how Dawn was taking the look that passed between them.

"This is still kinda weird, you know." Dawn eyed them, not wanting to think about the possibilities of that glance. "Don't push it."

"Sorry nugget, I swear, it wasn't like that," Spike said soothingly. "We took a detour to see the house I grew up in… I was your age once too y'know, over a century ago…"

Dawn perked up, interested. "Really? Why didn't you take me?"

"You would've wanted to go?" Buffy was surprised.

"Was kinda spur-of-the-moment, sweet… Besides, it's not much to look at… We got by fine, but I wasn't a prince or nothing."

Dawn sunk into her seat, clearly sulking. "Well, I would've liked to see it anyway. I always get left out of stuff... " She watched Spike, as he let fly a stream of curse words at the little red car flying by, trying to re-enter traffic. "What were you like in those days... like what did you look like?"

_Seems to be a popular question_… "I looked like a bleeding idiot. Always wore bland tweed suits, and had these stupid little glasses… dressed a bit like Giles, actually. Better looking though, of course."

"I have a hard time picturing you in a suit like that. Especially with that hair."

"Didn't take up this style until the 70s, love. It was Dru's idea, I kinda took to it though. Ladies seem to like it, don't they?" He smirked at Buffy, who blushed.

"Don't flatter yourself, Spike," she snapped. Her voice was cross, but she slid her hand up his inner thigh, being careful to make sure Dawn couldn't see the movement. Spike raised his eyebrows, trying not to look at her, or let her see how affected he was by the touch. After Dawn's speech when he returned, he had a bit of lingering fear where the slayer's sister was concerned.

Luckily, Dawn didn't notice. She clapped her hands together excitedly, getting an idea. "You need to _show_ me what you looked like before you got all vampy!"

"I don't know that I can, love. I think there was a picture of us once, but I wouldn't even know where to start if I were to go looking for it…"

"No!" Dawn clicked her tongue impatiently. "Pull over! There's a costume shop a block away, we spent half the day there yesterday. They have _everything_, I'm sure we can recreate it!"

Buffy burst into laughter at the vexed look on Spike's face, joining in on Dawn's begging until Spike reluctantly pulled off the road. By then, they had to backtrack several blocks, but neither of the girls wanted to risk asking Spike to drive them closer, not wanting to push their luck.

"Anything for me, you _promised_," Buffy grinned impishly.

"_NOT_ what I meant love, you well enough know that-" the girls didn't let him finish, dragging him through a pair of red double-doors.

The store was deserted, and the clerk waiting at the desk seemed grateful to be rescued from her boredom. She was pretty, a voluptuous thing with fire-engine-red hair and long black fingernails. She happily showed the three to the 'vintage' section of the store - her eyes lingering a moment as Spike grumpily started to strip before he was all the way through the fitting room curtain.

Buffy and Dawn bounced excitedly as he emerged, wearing a plain brown three-piece suit. Slowing, both girls hid a small measure of disappointment; the difference was there, but not as dramatically as they'd hoped. He looked, well, like Spike in Giles's clothes.

"No. Not good enough, I still can't picture it." Dawn was shaking her head, tapping her foot dramatically. "What did your hair look like before?"

"Brown, curly… probably kind of fluffy." Buffy surprised them by answering first, getting a quizzical look from Spike in particular. "What? I notice things! When you came back from… wherever you got your soul… your hair was growing out. It was light brown, and you had fluffy curls without your gel." She no longer had a reason to hide her attentions to Spike, but speaking about a time where hiding her feelings was given so much effort, she was flushing quite a bit.

Dawn nodded, disappearing to talk to the shopkeeper. She returned with an evil smile and the redhead in tow, holding a fluffy brown wig and a thin pair of gold half-rim glasses.

"Is this about right?" she asked.

Spike sighed, looking the items over. "Scarily so." He stared at Dawn as he tried to put on the wig, giving up quickly with an angry exhale. "One of you has to help me, I don't have a reflection to work with, and I don't care enough to be here this whole bloody day."

Jumping at the chance, the shopkeeper stepped up with a bright smile, helping him adjust the wig. Buffy noticed with a bolt of jealousy that the other woman's fingers lingered as she adjusted the curls away from his eyes. _She hadn't even balked at the 'lack of reflection' comment…_ she glanced around. There wasn't a mirror in the room that she could see, but it still seemed off. Looking the woman over closely, she noticed several Wiccan talismans. _Witch, or fashion choice?_

Dawn caught her stare, and hurried to introduce the two, if only to get the redhead to remove her hands from Spike before her sister started to physically steam.

"Sorry Buffy, I should have mentioned, this is Opal. She's actually in Willow's coven, this is her day job. She knows about Slayers and demons and such, she actually has a stock of training clothes and gear in the other room she ordered for us Academy girls."

"Buffy," The witch turned, shaking her hand warmly while Buffy tried to force herself into a friendly expression. "Would that be Buffy Summers? Thrilled to meet the _famous_ Slayer. I used to hear stories… I grew up on the Cleveland Hellmouth, is it true that you're living there now?"

The Slayer just smiled, returning the handshake with an excess of force, pleased to see faint red marks when she released the woman's hand. She could see in the corner of her eye Spike raising his eyebrows, which finally distracted her. Dawn turned to him too, giggling at the effect of his full ensemble.

'Bleeding idiot' wasn't quite the right phrase, but his earlier description of 'nancy-boy' was fairly accurate. For the first time, Buffy could actually see what he would've looked like, and found it almost as funny as Dawn did, who was now lost in fits of laughter. Even the witch was grinning. He looked so... _docile!_ Completely and absolutely _harmless._

"William the Bloody, indeed." Buffy teased, as Spike swore. Ignoring Dawn's pleading to leave it on while she looked for a camera, he tore off the glasses and wig, disappearing back behind the dressing curtain.

When he emerged, he looked like his old self, albeit with slightly messier hair from the multiple changes of clothing.

"Mmm," Opal looked him over. "Much better."

Spike grinned back at her, and Buffy tensed beside Dawn, who panicked, pulling Opal back away from the two with a hurried explanation of 'needing to talk to her about something one of her friends forgot to ask her to order.'


	11. Cheap Shots

Flipping off the engine of Giles's beloved car, Willow released a dreamy sigh, closing her eyes happily to reflect on what had to have been one of the best dates she'd ever had. Starting with the movie had been an excellent icebreaker: it was a truly horrible movie, which left them with a common enemy to verbally abuse as they giggled over their cappuccinos.

The more time Willow spent with Lindsay, the more relaxed she became. She was absolutely relieved to realize that Lindsay was a _dork,_ so much so that Willow was able to totally unwind, letting that side of herself show for the first time in a long while. The Slayer had tried so hard to be delicate, but she was a clumsy eater; an amused Willow had noticed her sneakily wipe whip cream from her nose not once, but _twice._ Just the thought made her grin- someone she'd previously thought of as inhumanly graceful, with whip cream on her face. Lindsay's constant chatting turned out to be more of a nervous tick than anything; by the end of the date, they were hardly speaking at all, just enjoying each other's company, and shyly holding each other's hands.

Most of all, her chest still fluttered as she recalled Lindsay's gentle little goodnight kiss, starting at Willow's cheek, and hesitantly moving to her lips…

In more ways than one, the memory was her undoing. As a sharp bolt of energy made contact with her head, Willow's eyes shot open for only a brief moment before she was pulled, unconscious, from the driver's seat.

"_SPIKE!_ Stop the car!" Dawn shrieked from the passenger's seat, her fingers shooting up to point at the scene that was unfolding across the car lot. The dark-haired witch was dragging Willow from Giles's car, moving as quickly as she could towards a dingy black vehicle parked at the lot entrance.

Slamming his hand across Dawn's chest to keep the jolt from sending her into the dash, Spike pulled the emergency brake on instinct. Before the vehicle had a chance to skid to a stop, Buffy flung herself from the backseat and onto the icy gravel in a practiced dive, coming up off a clean forward roll and running at her friend's attacker in a cold fury.

Dawn immediately moved to follow her sister, but Spike again forced her into her seat, snarling, already showcasing his demon features.

"No, YOU stay put. If you get an opening, get Red inside. Otherwise, you _stay_ in this car. I mean it." Before she could argue, Spike was gone, flying after Buffy as quickly as the snow would allow.

"Get AWAY from her!" Buffy screamed. She had quite a head start, but Spike was hot on her heels. Both were within yards of the witch when she suddenly dropped Willow to the ground, lifting her hands towards them with a frigid sneer.

"That's quite close enough," she growled. A burst of light shot from her open palms, and Spike and Buffy both found themselves riveted to the ground, unable to move their legs, frozen to the spot by an invisible barrier.

_Wake up, wake up, wake up!_ Buffy desperately willed her friend to move, but she remained helpless as Renata bent to gather up the motionless Willow.

Spike watched her intently as he strained to move his legs. She was familiar, but he couldn't quite place her in his memory… What he could see, quite clearly, was that the effort of keeping them both immobile combined with the physical effort of dragging Willow across the ground was draining her. Acting purely on a hunch, he shoved every ounce of energy he had into an attempted swing of his leg, and broke free of the spell with a triumphant laugh.

Panic in her eyes, Renata sent another bolt of light at Spike, this time sending him flying backwards, again struggling to move. Gasping for breath, Buffy found herself suddenly freed, and again ran at Renata, wishing she had a weapon of any kind.

_Oh well, fought worse with less_, she thought, slamming into the witch with as much of her heightened strength as she could. Her opponent flew backwards, the back of her head missing the side of the building by inches.

"You're lucky my aim is off today. Don't tempt me to practice."

Pulling a small, black dagger from her sleeve, Renata circled Buffy, trying to hide that she was favoring one side. She lunged to Buffy's left, which was easily batted away, the dagger clattering to the ground.

"I'm no fighter," she sneered, "But I have my tricks…" With a cruel smile, she turned her attention back to Spike, who was moving towards her, again released. He hit his knees as another burst of magic hit him, screaming in pain as a cloud of blue light circled his neck.

Before Buffy had time to react, Renata ceased to be a threat as a small green car slammed into her chest, sending her flying into the building, where she landed in a crumpled heap. Seeing Spike jump back to his feet, Buffy ran to Willow's side, who was starting to groggily lift herself up off the pavement.

Dawn rolled down the window as Spike stumbled towards her, smiling at him sheepishly. "...I didn't leave the car!"

"No, I guess not," Spike laughed, leaning up against the car with a faint groan. "You did good, Niblet. You did real good."

Dawn blushed, smiling back at him. Her smile vanished as she noticed the drifting dust where Renata had been, just moments before. The witch had escaped them again.

Having missed the action again, the boys were distraught when Buffy walked into the library, a weakened Willow in her arms again. Dawn burst out with the story, chattering excitedly as Spike went off to find Willow some water.

Returning, he pointed out worriedly that the snow was beginning to let up outside; they'd better head back before Angel and Spike needed to use their emergency 'travel blankets.' Ignoring Dawn's jokes that she "would be happy to drive" if he needed to hide, the group headed back for Giles's home to wait on the sun to go down.

"Buffy, could I have a word with you? It'll just be a moment." Giles gently tapped Buffy on the shoulder the second they'd crossed his threshold.

Nodding, she followed him up the stairs and into his study, slightly apprehensive when he quickly closed the door behind her.

"Buffy," he began again. "I wanted to tell you in private that Angel has decided not to come back here with us. He's staying elsewhere in the city, don't worry… and he can easily join us if we need him… but he thinks this is for the best, and I can't say I don't agree." He paused, pressing a small piece of paper into her hands before taking his leave of the room, shutting the door carefully behind him.

She unfolded the paper to reveal a quickly scrawled note:

Buffy, I know you've already told me you won't hold yesterday against me, but I do. Until I can promise it won't happen again, I think we need some time apart. I know you're with Spike… as strange as I find that... and I'm going to need a lot of time to get used to that idea. I hope we can be friends again soon, but I think for now we need to keep our distance as much as we can. I promise though, I won't abandon you. If you need me, I'll be there. Just say the word. -Angel

Breathing out deeply, Buffy was surprised at the relief that washed over her. Yesterday had reminded her too much of times she didn't want to think about these days, both of her past with Angel, and worse, her past with Spike.

After Spike's death, she'd had months of mostly isolation to reflect on the events of the prior years. Her time with Angel when she was younger had hurt her more than it had helped her in most ways; his departure had put an end to some of that confusion, but had hurt her even more in some respects. Riley leaving too had reopened and widened that wound, meaning Spike's initial confession of love couldn't have come at a worse time… and boy, had she punished him for that. She'd spent many nights over, alone in Cleveland, hating herself for every bruise she'd given him out of nothing more than a selfish need to take out her own frustrations on someone else. She knew now the struggle he'd gone through, trying to fight his demon, and wished she'd helped him rather than breaking him down.

Even knowing all of that, she had a hard time breaking that habit. She was grateful to her friends for their restraint when she'd revealed the relationship, but knew they still didn't approve of her choice, and the fight with Angel had brought all of that doubt rushing back for an awful moment. _It's never easy, is it?_

Taking another deep breath, Buffy slipped back downstairs to join the others. Meeting her eyes as she walked into the kitchen, Spike smiled warmly, reaching out to pull her to him.

_Maybe not easy, but worth it._


	12. Just Like Old Times

When he'd moved back to England that year, Giles had expected his life to return to something somewhat normal. Back at the Watcher's Council, back in his old family home, no longer assigned his own Slayer to look after… Looking around the room, he was grateful for how wrong he'd been. Xander was teasing Willow about her date, pulling her hair as she batted him away like they were in preschool. Andrew was watching them awkwardly, trying to join in on the jokes, but barely being noticed by the pair. Spike and Buffy were similarly engrossed in each other; she rested her head on his chest as he leaned into the armchair, absentmindedly stroking her hair while they both stared at their intertwined hands, lost in thought. _If they are trying to make sense of that particular relationship, it could take days…_

"Please, if you could all return your focus to the present moment, we do have a lot to discuss…" Giles gently cleared his throat, trying to recover the attention of the highly distracted group of remaining Scoobies.

"By 'all', I hope you also mean _me._" Dawn huffed, plopping onto the arm of the sofa beside Willow, frustrated by nearly being left out of another discussion.

"Yes, of course Dawn…" Giles placated her before continuing, clearing his throat again and pausing until Spike and Buffy finally turned to look at him as well.

"So, as you all are aware, we have much more information now than we had before. Angel has decided that he would do better to keep his ear to the ground elsewhere, as he is still famous in some circles, to see if he can locate the place that this witch is hiding. We are also quite certain she has backup of some kind, as is evidenced by the blacked-out car she tried to drag Willow into…"

"-So, vampire then?" Xander cut in. "Who else would do that?"

"Could be to block out the identity of the person… I mean, they just sped off, they didn't even try to help." Willow shrugged. "It did kinda look like Spike's crappy old car though..."

Spike barely registered the barb. He knew why the companion wouldn't have joined the fray; he'd picked up her scent, it was all over the witch… _God only knows what that crazy bitch would've done, if Buffy had gone to me, if she thought we were… _

He was shaken out if his thoughts by the realization that all eyes were on him. Clearly, the lack of one of his usual sarcastic retorts was uncommon enough to be suspect.

"You okay?" Buffy nudged him gently, worried by his silence. Avoiding her eyes, he stood, pacing nervously back and forth, trying to get up his nerve to confess what he worried was fully capable of starting a fight that he feared very much would spell the end of his happiness. He'd been shocked at how _easy_ it had been with her so far, at least compared to how things had been in the past. He couldn't help but think _anything_ could end it for him, it seemed too good to be true…

"Right," he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Buffy. "So, the night we got here, me and Slayer and the ponce… I caught a bit of scent walking back from these two's flat, and I found some poor girl, all gashed up… I know how this sounds, but believe me, I'd know… it was Dru. Drusilla. The girl must've managed to grab a piece of her clothes or something… her scent was all over the cloth, and the girl… and the witch, when I met that little lovely today. I don't know how or why, but she's involved in this."

Opening his eyes, he was relieved for a moment that Buffy didn't seem to share the looks of horror and confusion covering the faces of everyone else in the room. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she looked… _guilty?_ _But why would she be? I'm the one who should've told her this right away..._

"I'm sorry, Spike." Buffy whispered, knowing she hardly had to speak for him to hear her. "I didn't know."

"You didn't know what?" He leaned closer to her, curious and confused. "What is it you're sorry for, love?"

"I should've trusted you. I found this lace-thing in your coat that morning, I thought it was Drusilla's too, but I assumed you'd had it for awhile. Like as a keepsake, or something…"

"Is that why you were pushing me away? You honestly thought I- goddamnit woman, that's the biggest pile of rubbish I've heard in years. After everything we've been through, you think I still want _Drusilla?" _He hadn't meant for his voice to sound so harsh, and regretted his tone immediately for the effect it had on Buffy.

"Don't you _dare _act like I'm just some crazy girlfriend." Buffy drew herself up, clenching her fists and jaw. "Every time I've trusted you before, you've surprised me by how much evil you're capable of. Are you really saying I shouldn't even be careful?"

"More rubbish." Spike wrung his hands angrily, fighting the sudden urge to fling the nearest end table through a window. "You may be right about me, _before_ I won my soul, but I've changed Buffy. I thought you knew that. And Dru? Dru is ancient history."

"Right." Buffy scoffed at him. "Is that why you still call her Dru? It's hard to believe you don't have any of that _disgusting _obsession with her left… Or is it just that 'bad girl' vibe you like? Is that why you're making eyes at slutty shop girls?"

Spike's jaw nearly dropped, unable to believe how ridiculous she was being. _Maybe she's right… I do like them crazy._

"... Um, should we go?" asked Xander, already trying to edge himself out of the room. The others shared similarly nervous expressions, and Giles seemed too stunned by the outbursts to move a muscle, frozen into place with his glasses half-raised to his face.

"No." Spike snapped. "Buffy isn't the only one who needs to hear this."

Leaning down so that he was level with her, he put a gently hand on her cheek, guiding her to look at him. Buffy seemed to have lost all energy to fight him, and just stared up at him with childlike eyes, like she was waiting for someone to tell her again how _stupid_ she was being.

"Buffy. I know that we did nothing but push each other away before, but I don't ever want it to be like that again with you again. You're my girl, no matter what you do, so stop this, I beg of you. Scream at me all you like, I'm sure I'll give you plenty of excuses - but don't kid yourself that I don't love you more than anything I've ever known. I know you've been left and betrayed before, my daft self included, but that's all over now. I'm not going anywhere, pet. You're stuck with me, as long as you'll have me."

Finishing his speech, he glanced around the room, expecting some sign of dissension, but even Xander and Giles seemed to respect his proclamation. At the very least, they made no attempt to argue, even as he directed a portion of his 'stuck with me' comment in their direction.

Buffy's lip was trembling, and she buried herself again in Spike's shoulder, embarrassed to have lashed out at him the way she did. It had been fear in control, the same fear that had always reared its ugly head when she'd let Spike get close. Trust Spike to see right through it and her, like he always had.

"I'm entirely devoted to you," he whispered into her ear. "You know that, pet."

Nodding against him, she pulled herself away, trying to shake off her weakened feeling with a literal shake of her shoulders.

"Can we just… pretend that didn't happen?" She addressed the group as a whole, grateful to see no judgement in their eyes. She still feared their judgement; it was one of the many things making this new stage of her life so damn hard these days. She held tightly to Spike's hand as he gently pulled her back onto his lap, returning to their shared seat.

"So… Drusilla." Willow started. "Kinda adds more questions than it answers, doesn't it?"

Spike and Buffy excused themselves from the others while they were still comparing their research discoveries, claiming that they were too exhausted to stay up any later, with all that was left to be done tomorrow. By the skeptical look Dawn shot them, at least one member of the group saw through the weak line; Buffy was clinging to Spike's arm as if her life depended on it, her free hand drawing circles on his back, beneath his shirt, sliding slowly up his spine. Spike played along, but he knew if his heart was beating it would be racing; Buffy's mind was clearly set on making up after their fight, and he was having trouble thinking straight as she led him upstairs.

The moment they were safely in the privacy of their room, she leapt onto him, kissing him passionately, ripping his shirt off so violently that Spike caught the sounds of a couple seams ripping.

"Watch it love, I'm bloody fond of that shirt," he whispered, mock-complaining. Ignoring him, she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist as he pulled her off the ground and into his arms, thanking whatever Gods he could think of that he didn't need to breathe; it would've been difficult, with the hungry way she was snogging him.

"-Second thought," he growled. "Sod the shirt." Leaning forward, he let her weight pull the both of them onto the bed, grabbing her firmly by the hips as he returned her kiss, Buffy moaning beneath him at the pressure of his hold on her.

After his equally-ferocious response in the beginning, she was surprised to feel his touch gradually slowing, the fire between them still growing steadily even as he became increasingly tender. Oxygen-deprived, Buffy felt herself floating. He was different tonight, the heat between them becoming an ache in each of them that only the other could satisfy. In the past, when he'd tried to touch her this way, she'd responded with violence until the demon in him raged, giving her what she thought she'd only wanted from him. Now, she needed this, a craving she never knew she had until she'd thought she'd never have the chance.

It felt like hours before it ended, and for all they knew, it could've been. Content but exhausted, Buffy settled into the crook of Spike's arm, drawing listless patterns on his exposed skin. She could hear the others finally heading up the stairs, Dawn and Giles bickering distantly about some social event or another as they got ready to go to bed.

"Spike?"

His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at her, sharing her blissful expression. He'd been able to hear the commotion of the household too well to drift off, but had enjoyed the peaceful moment all the same. Buffy's skin felt hot against his, and he loved how very warm he felt with her body tucked against him this way.

"Can you be patient with me?" she whispered.

"Buffy, love," he teased. "Have I ever been anything else?"


	13. No News is Good News

A house with as odd a cast as this would never be truly peaceful, but the next day was closer to tranquil than the Scoobies could ever remember being. The girls seemed to be determined to ignore each attempt Giles made to get them to focus on the Renata/Drusilla issue, instead setting about decorating the house for Christmas, despite his many protests. The snow was falling thicker than it had the day before, and Dawn managed to talk Spike into helping her find the perfect Christmas tree- promising to make him a cup of hot cocoa in return 'just like her mom used to make.'

Dawn did make some effort to please Giles, as she went about her overhaul of the house. Her 'effort', however, primarily consisted of asking Giles repeatedly about British Christmas traditions until he was finding it quite difficult to hide how much her ongoing interview annoyed him. When he'd lived in Sunnydale, he'd made some attempts to join the holiday traditions on a few occasions, but usually he wasn't much for decorations, particularly in light of their current situation. He was careful though to avoid allowing Dawn or Willow to see his exasperation; they really were trying to do something nice for everyone, and the house was looking quite festive by the time the sun had gone down again.

Willow in particular was determined to be as busy as she could, spending the day either helping Dawn and Spike, or locked in her bedroom talking to Lindsay on the phone. Giles had insisted she not leave the house, and in a matter of hours she could feel herself going stir-crazy. She could understand the logic behind his decision, as did Xander, who steadfastly refused to aid her in her little escape plans, but something about being told she had to stay meant that all she wanted to do was leave.

Buffy was as antsy as the others, but was doing a much better job of hiding from the determined Christmas elf than the unfortunate Giles and Spike. From her hiding place on the roof, wrapped in several layers of ski-gear and clutching a large thermos of hot cocoa, she waved evilly at Spike as he traipsed through the snow with her Scythe by his side after a chattering Dawn, who seemed to be having a difficult time settling on the ideal tree. Spike returned her wave with a scowl and several rude gestures of his own, some of which Buffy didn't even recognize, but had a hard time keeping himself from smiling at how adorable she looked, perched on the roof under all her layers.

Finally starting to feel the chill of the air, Buffy slipped back through the window and into Giles's study, hoping to sneak back down into the kitchen before Dawn had finished directing Spike to the perfect tree placement in the living room. Giles was sitting at his desk again, and smirked at her as she grinned, one finger to her lips, slipping out the door on her tiptoes. It wasn't that she didn't love her sister dearly, but Dawn seemed to rush to take a leading role in all things 'normal', perhaps to compensate for rarely being allowed into the more serious Slayer/Council business. It was understandable, but it was difficult to be so tolerant when confined to the house with a bossy young teenager, especially a _Summers_ teenager.

Right as she entered the kitchen, the lights on the phone receiver flared to life, and Buffy quickly snapped it up before it had a chance to ring.

"Hello, Giles… residence…" Buffy spoke quietly, leaning over the counter a little to make sure she was still safe.

"Buffy?"

"Oh, God, Angel. I'm sorry, you must want Giles, I'll get him. Just one moment-"

"No," said Angel quickly. "I mean, yes, I was expecting Giles, but this is information you're going to need as well…"

"Are you sure?" Buffy shifted nervously. In his note, Angel had essentially told her he wanted to put their friendship on hold completely, and she wasn't quite sure what he expected from her now.

"Yes Buffy, I'm sure… I can handle a phone call, I promise." Angel sounded firm, and Buffy breathed a quick sigh of relief. Whether he meant it or not didn't matter right now, he'd at least given her the O.K.

"I do need to tell you something, and I don't have much time. I was up all night scoping out some of my old spots… Luckily, demons are creatures of habit; I found quite a few that were able to paint a clearer picture for me of what's going on. You're not going to believe this, but _Drusilla_ is involved, she's teamed up with the soulless witch." He paused, waiting for her reaction, but Buffy only sighed.

"I know."

"You do?" Angel seemed almost disappointed; he thought the information he'd found would be crucial. "What, Slayer vision?"

Buffy shook her head before realizing he couldn't see her.

"No, Spike."

Angel huffed, but thankfully, he didn't ask her to elaborate. She wasn't sure that the details of that particular revelation was a conversation that she and Angel should have.

"Well," he continued, shouldering his curiosity. "That wasn't the _only_ thing I called to say… I did get confirmation that Wesley's hunch was right on the mark… they're aiming to bring back Sunnydale, and they have the amulet already. Apparently they've been bragging about it, trying to recruit demons for their 'new city,' several are waiting to go. The witch has a bit of a reputation for finishing whatever she starts, even if Drusilla doesn't… most of the ones I've run into are sure she will succeed… of course, they don't know you."

Not knowing what to say, Buffy hung her head, waiting for him to continue. She could tell from his voice that there was something else... something he didn't want to say. From the way he was speaking, she wouldn't have to force it out of him. If he was putting off saying it, it meant that he'd already decided to tell her.

"Buffy…" Angel took in a deep, unnecessary breath. "There's one more thing. They know that Spike is here, and they know he's fighting on our side. From what I can tell, Drusilla's put a hit out on him, promising a 'high place' in the 'new city' to whoever -or whatever- kills him. He left behind a lot of enemies here even without that… I don't think it's safe for him out here. Just thought you should know."

"Thanks, Angel." Buffy closed her eyes, knowing how much Spike would hate being told to stay out of the action, especially given the source of the tip. "I don't know that I'll be able to talk him into staying low, but I'll do my best."

"I knew you would." He paused, out of time and information to impart, but not wanting to lose her presence, even through a phone. "Make sure Giles and the rest get the info too, I'll see if I can get anything else tonight."

"Thanks Angel," she repeated. The line clicked off, and she put the phone down numbly, feeling colder than she had on the roof. It seemed that the people she loved most were in more danger than she thought.

Spike was released from his duties when it came time to decorate the tree, and quickly found Buffy's new hiding place from her scent alone. She'd pulled several pillows into Giles's study, and was blocked from view by one of his free-standing bookshelves, reading quietly while Giles worked. If Spike was surprised to see that the book she'd chosen was 'A Collection of 19th Century Poems,' he took it in stride, instead settling in beside her and slipping an arm around her shoulders.

"Hey, you," she said quietly, barely looking up from her book. He'd noticed that it was her usual response when he interrupted her thoughts, and took a moment to appreciate that he'd spent enough time with her now to start noticing those little things.

"Will's looking for you," he said. "Something about 'girl talk', I didn't ask any questions… Might want to find her before the Bit ropes her into more Christmas nonsense."

"Don't act like you weren't having fun!" Buffy put her book down, grinning at him as he tried to act grumpy. She knew he loved Dawn, Spike was not the type to let himself be stuck doing anything he didn't _want _to be doing. "...besides, if I go find her now, I will lose this peaceful little spot. I'm very comfortable here!"

"Does that mean you're opposed to me joining you?" Buffy laughed quietly as Spike leaned towards her, slipping her arms around him as he pulled her closer. Within seconds, she was in very great danger of the encounter becoming a rather inappropriate one, and tried to slow him down, but he was having none of her weak resistance. Giving in, she returned the kiss in full, feeling a flush of heat throughout her body as she started to run out of air.

The moment was broken by Giles, who sighed dramatically the moment he realized what was happening behind his bookshelf.

"No, no, none of that," he called out from across the room. "Out, _both of you."_

Sheepishly, the couple untangled themselves and slipped out of the study, Giles glaring at them from above lowered glasses to make sure they'd complied with his request. _It's not even a spell this time…_

Still, he'd been granted a new understanding of the two over the past days. He did still hold some misgivings when it came to the relationship, which was only natural when a girl he loved as his own had chosen such a volatile individual as a partner. He had to admit, however, that Spike really did love her. He'd always assumed that Spike's attentions to Buffy were built on infatuation, or some obsession with her Slayer status, but Spike clearly loved the girl, _woman_, beneath the persona. Buffy herself may not be as verbally open with her feelings as he was, but Giles had spent enough of his life in love to notice the way she looked at him. He knew she'd forgiven him for it, many months ago now, but it did give him some guilt to realize that he had almost been responsible for the death of the 'man' that she now looked at with such affection. At the time, he thought he was making the tough and necessary decision, like he had with Ben, but he'd underestimated the vampire gravely in more ways than one, and he knew that now.

Downstairs, Buffy and Willow were able to sneak off into the kitchen for their talk, with Willow starting to make dinner for them all as they did so. Spike followed them for a moment, trying to heat up some blood for himself, but wound up drinking it cold as the girls stared him down until he marched right back out of the kitchen.

"Women. Not like I want to be in that bloody conversation…" he grumbled, closing the door loudly behind him.

"So," said Buffy, grinning at Willow. "Girl talk… would this be about your new girl?"

"Yes," Willow pouted. "Giles won't let me see her. He took my keys, and he even _called _her and told her that I'm 'not to leave the house.' Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is?"

Buffy laughed. "Yes, well… Giles loves us, sometimes a bit too much. Trust me, I know all too well what it's like to have him messing with your love life."

Willow beamed. "Does that mean you'll talk to him for me? I mean, Lindsay's a Slayer too, and totally trained in the fighting stuff, it's not like I'll have no protection or anything…"

"Maybe..." she answered, the uncertainty in her voice causing Willow's smile to fall a little. "I'm sorry Will, I know she's strong too, but Lindsay's a brand-new Slayer. She's a skilled fighter, but she's used to fighting humans, and who knows how many demons the witch will bring next time. I feel much better having you here too, where I can watch your back myself."

Willow nodded sadly, and Buffy put an arm around her shoulders. _She's certainly come a long way since I've gotten here, going from 'thank God I don't have to face her this week' to begging for my help so she can run off for a visit…_

Suddenly an idea struck the redhead, her face lighting up again.

"I know! We can have a double date! That way you'll be there, _and_ Spike, it'll be max protection, I'll be the safest girl ever!"

Buffy laughed at the idea. It was plausible, but even picturing the look on Spike's face when she asked him to accompany them on a double date was deeply amusing. Sharing the reason for her laughter with Willow, the girls rushed off to recruit Spike, eager to find out if his reaction would be as funny as they were picturing.


	14. Surprises

Lindsay turned out to be otherwise engaged for that night, but Willow was so excited that she would finally be able to see her the very next evening that she took the news very well. Her glowing mood was a sharp contrast to Spike's, who'd been melodramatically grumbling ever since Buffy and Willow had interrupted his dinner to tell him all about their 'great idea'. If Buffy hadn't been making gestures behind Willow's back that implied he would be well-rewarded, he might've turned them down flat.

_Still, I've done a lot worse for her_, he thought fondly as he watched them, nestled into the corner of the couch and chattering happily. He dreaded the day when she realized just how wrapped around her finger he really was. _Though, perhaps dying for her was a fair hint…_

The next morning, Willow took Buffy aside again before the rest of the household had awoken, a thought having occurred to her late that evening. With everything that was going on, she might not see Lindsay again before Christmas, yet she didn't have a gift to bring her. Her plight was so sweet, and she looked so distressed about it that Buffy took pity on her. After a quick word with Spike, she snuck Willow's keys out of Giles's bedroom and the two were off, headed for the shops.

Spike promised to keep their secret as long as he could, but he was not pleased about their excursion. Particularly since the sun had returned that day, so he was confined indoors by default. Buffy assured him it would be a quick trip, but took her Scythe for good measure, if only to placate him. She'd beaten worse than the witch with little else!

To make his job a little easier, they were rushing through their shopping as quickly as Willow's perfectionism would allow. She had such a hard time settling on one particular gift that she selected several; Buffy's favorite of which being an adjustable ankle clip meant to be worn while out for a jog. The manufacturers likely intended it to be used for carrying a large pocket knife, but it was the perfect size for a small stake, and Buffy wound up grabbing two for herself as well.

Making their way outside with their purchases, they were relieved to see the sky clouding over, close to snowing for the second day in a row.

"Thank God," sighed Buffy. "I don't think I can handle having Spike stuck inside, he gets so moody when he can't go out!"

"Sure," Willow laughed. "And you were so miserable yesterday, _napping_ with him for hours when the sun came out in the afternoon…"

"Hey!" Buffy blushed at the implication. "We were napping! Really! …Got it all out of our system yesterday..." It was a lie, and not a good one. _As if it's ever out of our system these days, with all the 'catching up' we're still doing..._

Willow didn't have a chance to tease her further, as a loud scream sounded from nearby, and Buffy jumped into a fighting stance on instinct. Grabbing Willow's hand to keep her firmly behind her, Buffy followed the sound around the back of the building to find a familiar scene; a vampire attack in the shadows. Freeing her Scythe, Buffy rushed at the pair, realizing a moment too late that both victim and attacker were very familiar…

"So," Giles frowned at Spike. "You mean to tell me now that they went to Xander's, hours before he's usually awake, told no one but you, and you didn't remember until just now?"

Spike paced anxiously. He'd managed to avoid him most of the morning, but Giles had been interviewing him for several minutes now and he was running out of good answers. Particularly since Buffy should've been back by now. Willow was confident in her advantage over the other witch, but Buffy was less so, and would never have allowed her to risk over two hours of limited protection.

"What's with the twenty questions? I told you all I know!" Spike tried to edge away from the conversation as best he could, but Giles was looking right through him, with a stern look on his face reminiscent of the look Buffy used to give him in the early days… _Goddamnit, where is she?_ The thought of her, and another glance at the clock, and he knew he'd have to give it up. Whatever trouble she'd be in for decieving Giles wasn't worth it.

"Fine," Spike sighed. "She and Red, they went _out_. They said they'd be back in an hour, supposed to be back before you even pried yourself off your mattress… But that was two hours back, and _where the bloody hell is she?"_ Spike kicked at the couch, swearing as his foot made impact with the solid wood frame.

Giles stared at him for a moment, a mix of anger and worry building inside him.

"Come on then," He said curtly. "Grab a blanket. You're going to tell me _exactly_ where they are, and you're coming with me. Whether or not it kills you."

Spike nodded. He no intention of arguing. His girl was missing…

He may not have needed to, but he was breathing quite fast by the time they made it to the lot where Willow's car was still sitting. There was just enough cloud cover for Spike, and the moment Giles pulled his car beside Willow's he was out of the door, pausing only for a few seconds to smell the air before taking off at a dead run towards the buildings. What panicked him most was the strongest scent he caught: Buffy's blood. Every bound seemed slower than the last as he ran, his joints aching at the request to move so much faster than they were usually required to.

It took him less than thirty seconds to reach her side, but it felt much longer to his aching body. As she finally came into view, Spike's anger burst forth so strongly that he slipped into his demon visage, letting loose an unearthly cry of rage.

"Buffy, BUFFY!" He sprung to her side, hitting his knees hard on the asphalt. She was alone, slumped against a metal trash bin, her head resting on a large spatter of blood that he knew from the scent was her own. Carefully, he leaned her forward, taking her into his arms. Her heart was beating, and her breathing was even; she was alive, but unconscious. From the looks of her head wound, she'd been slammed _hard_ onto the uneven metal surface… _must've caught a vein, thankfully not an artery… definitely has a concussion. _As he rocked her back and forth, he realized how urgent it was for her to open her eyes.

"Buffy, Buffy, please…" he murmured, running his hands over her face, her hair... Blood was no longer flowing from the wound on her head; the gash seemed to be shallow for how much it had bled, but she wasn't coming to. Panic clear even with inhuman eyes, he stared up at the out-of-breath Giles, words catching in his throat. _Fix her, just bloody fix her..._

Giles stepped forward, kneeling beside them both, struggling to keep his breathing even. Closing his eyes, he placed one hand on either side of her forehead, a soft glow forming at his fingertips.

"_Eripite hanc magicae,_" he spoke softly, and Buffy's eyes fluttered open, both men's eyes watering with relief.

Exhausted from the run and the use of power, Giles leaned backwards, his head resting near where Buffy's had been a moment before.

"Spike?" Buffy touched his wrinkled forehead, which slid back into his human face under her touch. "Where's Willow? Oh God…" her eyes locked onto Giles as she looked around. "Giles, I'm so sorry… this is all my fault…"

"Well, yes," he said, smiling at her a little despite his worry. "When will you learn to listen to your old Watcher?"

"Someday, I promise." Buffy groaned, standing gingerly with Spike's help. "The witch has Willow. And my Scythe, apparently… greedy bitch."

"You're damn lucky she didn't kill you," Spike said bitterly. He quickly regretted his harshness when Buffy met his eyes, clearly awash with guilt already. "Sorry love, I didn't mean-"

"Buffy!" Angel seemed to appear out of nowhere, rushing towards them and taking Buffy's free hand, eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay? Giles told me you might need help, what happened?"

"Watcher told you what?" Spike whirled to look at Giles, eyes flashing. "You called _him? _She's my girl, I'm perfectly capable-"

"Enough." Giles shoved Spike to the ground as he stood. "As I've told you both, this is bigger than your petty, _childish_ drama. Buffy and WILLOW both need your help. We all need to be working together, and I don't want to hear another word about it."

"I agree." Buffy winced again, stretching gently, still trying to evaluate the extent of her own injuries. _Broken rib, right side… nearly broken right wrist as well… I've had worse._ "What we need to do, right now, is find Willow. Giles, do you think you can do some kind of spell to track her down?"

"He won't need to," said Angel. "I know where they are."

"Should've let me kill her," Drusilla pouted, scratching small lines into the skin of their captive, watching the small droplets of blood drip onto the filthy floor. "Been a long time since I've had a chance as nice as that…"

"Absolutely not," Renata sighed. "Slayer's got friends; we leave her dead, we have an army at our doors. Doubt they could rally so much support for a silly little thing like this. Besides, they'll have a nice distraction now, fussing over their injured lady leader instead of bothering us."

"But it would've hurt my Spikey… He deserves some lovely pain, that dirty... little... traitor…." With each of the last three words, Drusilla pulled small clumps of red hair from Willow's head, who slowly stirred at the sudden pain.

Renata didn't respond. She had grown tired of Drusilla and her little vendetta. Precious time that could've been used to further their cause had been wasted on setting all manner of nasties after the vampiress's 'ex,' with nothing to show for it. _Bastard should've been dust by now, at the very least..._

Leaning forward, she mumbled a phrase under her breath in Latin, and Willow glowed softly, her breathing slowing almost to a stop as her movements ceased completely.

"There, now she's under plenty deeply for our little procedure. Leave her be, we'll need her strength. She won't survive this, but I certainly plan to."

Lifting her hands again, she placed one directly onto the Scythe's handle. She began to speak in a low hum, and the weapon under her right hand reverberated along with her voice, quickly becoming so hot she thought she might be burned. As the sparks begin to fly, she sucked in a sharp breath; the Slayer's weapon _itself_ was fighting her, but she had more power than just her own. Smiling, she placed her other hand on Willow's forearm, tightening her grip until she could feel the other woman's faint pulse. The crystal on her neck glowed brightly, and she gasped with pleasure and surprise as she felt the intense power of the other witch begin to flow through her body and into her own spell, more than she'd ever expected the small girl to possess. _This… will work quite nicely. _


	15. Power and Pain

Angel and Spike were hardly surprised when Buffy refused to accompany Giles on his drive to get backup. She knew they wouldn't wait for her, just as she wouldn't wait for Giles. Buffy was as anxious to find Willow as Spike had been to find herself just minutes before; all the more so for all the guilt she couldn't keep pushed down no matter how she tried, and no matter what Spike whispered to her. Giles had tried to be kind, but he'd agreed with her. It _was_ all her fault…

Pulling the car into the first space he saw within blocks of their destination, Angel jumped out of the driver's seat, waving solemnly for the others to follow him. Dodging around dozens of pedestrians, the two sped after him, barely feeling the bitter cold of the air. If Spike was surprised when they ducked into the same Public Underground station that he and Dru had used decades before, he kept it to himself… but Buffy couldn't help but notice the tightening of his cheeks and his sudden change of pace as he jumped up to lead the way with Angel. He knew all too well where they were going. _Can't believe that crazy bitch would risk coming back here… She's even farther 'round the bend than I thought… _

Even with her enhanced stamina and strength, Buffy struggled to keep pace with them as they moved faster and faster past the crowds to the little-used maintenance halls. Her broken rib screamed in pain with every step, but Buffy knew better than to slow down. She would be sent back by both companions if they knew the extent of her injuries, by force if need be, and in her current state she had no chance against them. Her only hope of being there for Willow was to hide it, and she refused to let her friend down now. She still carried the guilt of years before, when she'd failed to notice her best friend's downward spiral… Fighting for her now, even to the death... it wasn't a question.

As they neared their destination, Angel signalled to them to slow, and move on quietly. Sneaking a glance at Buffy, Spike was terrified by the look he caught in her eyes. It was the same one he'd worn, many months ago, when the amulet had begun to do it's work. It was the look of someone who was fighting for a cause they would happily die for.

Promising himself that things wouldn't turn out that way, he and and Angel nodded briefly at each other, each placing one foot on a rusted metal door and drawing back. With an ear-splitting crash, the door was flung from its hinges, landing just two feet shy of the two dark-haired women crouched at the far end of the room, staring up at the group in shock.

"Nasty intruders," growled Drusilla. "Stay back, or little bitty witchy here's gonna be my next little masterpiece…"

Rolling her eyes, Renata flicked her wrist in their direction, and a glittering white wall of energy split the room in two; firmly separating the opposing groups. Sparks were still flying from the Scythe, and her hand appeared badly burned, but she barely felt it as she relished the sheer volume of the power coursing through her veins.

Buffy barely stopped herself from letting out a wail at the sight of Willow; she was lying motionless on the ground, her dangling arm dripping with blood. Her face was pale, as if all of the life was slowly draining out of her. From the look of the glowing black-haired witch, that could very well be exactly what was happening… Swallowing her fear, Buffy forced her features into the toughest expression she could manage, trying to appear as dangerous as the two game-faced vampires on either side of her.

"You have no _idea_ who you've just pissed off," she jeered, fighting the stabbing pain in her right side when she put her hands on her hips.

"Stupid girl," snarled Renata. "Even if you could get to me, you couldn't stop this now…" Raising her voice higher and higher, she chanted on, and the amulet on her lap slowly rose into the air, hanging above the room like a small, burning-red sun…

Suddenly, Spike screamed in pain, and Buffy whirled to face him. Moaning, he dropped heavily to his already bloodied knees, staring at his hands with wide eyes. Buffy reached for him on instinct, inadvertently confirming what he already felt happening as her hand passed right through his.

"I... I'm…" he stammered. "I'm sorry love, I'm fading."

"Oh, oh!" Drusilla screamed with delight, clapping her hands together with her features twisted into a deranged smile. "I'd almost forgotten about this happy little side effect…"

Buffy stared in horror as the meaning of their words hit her. His amulet's work reversed… did that include Spike's resurrection? Could she possibly, in one fell swoop, lose _both_ of her best friends?

Fueled by shock and rage, Buffy rushed at the barrier, ignoring the indignant protests of her own logic and survival instincts. She flung her fists at the immovable wall, raining blows down with loud cries of physical and emotional pain. Angel rushed to her side, managing to pull her away just seconds too late for her wrist, which snapped sickeningly under the intensity of her onslaught. Buffy's cry of pain mingled with one of Renata's, as the Scythe under her hand suddenly flared white-hot, sending a bolt of what looked like lightning in Buffy's direction.

On impact with the wall of magic, the bolt cracked the barrier, and Angel's instincts kicked in just a moment quicker than Buffy's.

A second before Renata had a chance to mend the break, he leapt through, and the barrier flared back into place behind him, leaving Buffy and Spike trapped on the other side.


	16. A Man on the Inside

Renata's eyes were closed now, all focus pouring into regaining control of the Scythe. Finally necessary, Drusilla smiled sweetly at Angel, stepping towards him with her arms spread out invitingly.

"My sweet Angelus," she purred. "Don't be like this… you owe me, after all… I've given you so much _pleasure_ over the years…"

"It's _Angel_," he said coldly. "Angelus wouldn't give half a damn about you, and if anything, I give even less of one now. You've hit a new low here, Dru."

Drusilla's eyes drifted towards Spike, who was calling for Buffy. The Slayer had rushed to his side, and was now sobbing openly with her good hand over her mouth. Spike looked transparent now, and from the looks of the scene, could neither hear nor see Buffy right in front of him.

With a satisfied smile, she turned her attention back to Angel, circling him threateningly, keeping her dagger-sharp nails raised.

"We want the same things, you know…" she whispered. "This spell could be just as kind to you as it will be to me…"

"Right," Angel scoffed. "I knew you were crazy, Dru, but that's one hell of a lie. What would I want with a demon city? I've had enough trouble trying to beat back the hordes in LA."

"Mmmm, oh, I don't know," she sighed, dreamily, staring at him intently from underneath lowered lashes. "How about your sweet little Slayer… all to yourself?"

Angel blinked. For a second, but only that, the demonic voice that still lived inside of him screamed for him to bide his time. Within minutes, Spike would be gone, and Buffy would be his to comfort…

That small piece of Angelus left in him lost any power it held over him as he looked at Buffy through the barrier. She was crying, he could tell that much even with her back to him. When she turned, meeting his eyes, he knew immediately what he had to do. Kicking Drusilla roughly aside, he ripped the Scythe from under Renata's withering fingers, ignoring the searing pain as the white-hot metal burned into his flesh. The sparks flying from the witch set his clothes blazing, but he felt the Scythe in his hands guiding his swing even as his limbs began to burn, using every last bit of strength he had to bring the blade down onto Renata's body. Even as the fire got to him, he felt the Scythe in his hands fade from blazing-heat to comforting warmth, and he let his soul follow its final instructions. As he closed his eyes for the last time, he felt Buffy's protection through it, and followed it to a place she knew from experience that he would find peace.

The wall of protection fell with Renata's last breath, and Buffy felt Spike return to solid form beneath her hands. Gripping both his hands tightly, she let her tears fall freely as they both helped each other to stand. The amulet had fallen to the ground between the stirring Willow and the Scythe, which was still half-embedded in Renata's lifeless body. Drusilla was huddled in the corner, flames blocking one path to the exit, Buffy and Spike blocking the other, trying fearfully to decide which would offer her the best chance of survival.

As Willow sat up, with much difficulty, she could dimly make out the female vampire as she made to run past her, through the flames. Drawing on the reserves of her energy, she pushed the flames in Drusilla's direction, and Drusilla screamed as she was completely consumed, her ashes joining Angel's on the bloodied floor.

Her work done, she waved her hands again, murmuring a soft phrase to put out the flames as Buffy ran to her side, still crying, still gripping Spike's hands tightly. The three of them were still huddling on the floor, staring in anguish at the shambles before them when Giles finally arrived, with Xander and several young slayers in tow.

The fight had already been won, but as always, at an all too steep price.


	17. Epilogue, Part 1?

Buffy tried to stretch her body higher than it was willing to go as she stared at her reflection. Even in heels, she felt too short; not as tall and grown-up as she'd always wanted herself to feel on a day like this. _Being taller isn't going to make you feel any more ready, Buff…_

Giving up, she instead adjusted the ankle straps of her shoes yet again and stood, her hair nearly touching the floor when she bent down. Granting Spike's unspoken wish, she had grown it out over the past year, and it now was within an inch or two of reaching her waist, getting even closer than usual since Dawn had spent all morning helping her straighten most of it, only allowing a few face-framing tendrils to remain wavy. They had pulled most of her hair back either way, partially to avoid catching it in the beads adorning the neckline of her dress, and partially because Buffy knew she wouldn't be able to stand constantly pushing it out of her way for hours on end.

Despite her nerves, she was in desperate need of a distraction, and was about to call for Dawn when she heard a knock on the door.

"Dawn, get in here! Do we have any taller shoes? I feel too short in these!"

"Er, not Dawn, but may I come in?" The door opened tentatively, Giles waving his hand through the gap.

"Oh! Of course, Giles." Buffy rushed to open the door, revealing a uncomfortable-looking Giles shifting his weight between his feet. He'd had the same look on his face all day, and it was beginning to worry her. It was close to how he used to look when they'd discovered a new 'Big Bad', back in the old days, but not quite. Buffy hoped it was excitement that he felt, rather than apprehension, but she'd settle for somewhere in between if she must.

"Whatcha got there?" She pointed to a thin black box, clutched tightly in his other hand, but he acted as if he hadn't heard her. There was a certain order to this conversation, when he'd rehearsed it in his mind, and he needed to stick to it closely for his own sanity.

"Buffy, dear, you look absolutely beautiful, really." He smiled warmly, bringing her into his arms for a careful yet affectionate hug. "I'm not an expert on such things, but I really don't think you need taller shoes, if that means anything. You are already far closer to my own height than I'm used to."

"Giles, hun, you're doing that thing again," she tapped him lightly as she pulled out of their hug. "You know, where you scare me half to death by avoiding questions?"

"I'm sorry Buffy, I certainly didn't mean to cause you any stress, but this is quite meaningful to me and I wanted to make sure I did this right," he swallowed, steadying himself. _Where's a scotch when you need one?_

"You know I've always thought of you as a daughter to me, and I would have happily adopted you along with Dawn, had you been of that age… But since it seems that you've moved on from the phase of your life where you truly need me- No, don't give me that look, it's true…" He paused nervously, trying to resist the urge to clean his glasses. He couldn't take Buffy's laughter at the moment. "...At the very least, I wanted to give you this. It's been in my family for over a hundred years, and I would like you to have it. As my wedding gift to you."

Buffy stared at the box as he handed it to her. She was terrified to look at him; her makeup had taken hours, and she knew that if he had the look in his eyes she could feel was there, it would be ruined in seconds. Silently, she slipped off the small red ribbon, opening the box as gently as she possibly could. At the sight of the contents, she could feel her eyes welling anyway; it had to be one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. The chain was silver, intricately crafted, and seemed almost too delicate to support the weight of the beautiful diamond pendant at its center. Holding it up, it seemed to catch every color in the room, almost glowing against the pink light of the fading sun.

Lost for words, she threw her arms around Giles, trying as hard as she could not to cry. Having no such motivation, she caught a couple of tears running down his cheeks as they hugged.

"Would you put it on for me?" she asked. "I'd like to wear it today."

"I was hoping you would," he laughed. "It's considered good luck to bring 'something old', is it not?"

"You're forgetting," Buffy grinned mischievously. "I've got that already."

"Right, yes, the groom." Giles pulled her in for another quick hug, laughing as he wiped his eyes. "Shall I get you some champagne?"

"Yes, please!"

Still chuckling as he bowed out of the room, Giles wistfully remembered the first day he had met Buffy. It was hard to believe that his little Slayer was old enough to drink.

As she raised her hand to knock on the door, Willow was even more terrified than Giles had been, though for a very different reason. Her hands nervously played with her own gift, hidden in the the front pocket of her overalls. _Buffy will probably kill me, if she finds out that I haven't changed yet… _At the very least, that was one worry she needn't have when it came to the occupant of this room.

"Come in, Red." He called. "I can hear you breathing out there. I don't know what's got you so worked up, you know I don't bite anymore."

"Hi, Spike..." Willow pulled on her hair nervously. _This could very possibly end badly…_ "I just-"

"Actually, would you mind giving me a woman's opinion?" He interrupted hurriedly, worrying he might lose his own nerve. "I don't think I've done this right…" He gestured to his his hair, gelled back into its usual style. "I did it like I normally do, only this isn't a normal day, and I don't know if I'm supposed to have done it different… oh, bugger this." He ruffled his hair nervously, which looked so boyish and ridiculous that Willow's nerves melted almost completely.

"You look fine, I promise! Maybe just-" she smoothed his hair back down a little. "There, good as new."

"Thanks." He finally stopped pacing, dropping himself melodramatically into Giles's armchair. Buffy had gotten the guest room for her preparations, and he'd been stuck with the study, since he didn't require a room with a mirror. He wouldn't have minded the arrangement so much if it weren't for how close she was, just across the hall… He could smell her, sense her nearness, but he couldn't see or touch her, which is lately exactly what he'd done when he was _this _on edge…

"Maybe I should come back later?" Willow half-whispered, apprehensively. He was still staring towards the blacked-out window, clearly lost in thought, smoothing his shirt absentmindedly. Her words seemed to jolt him, reminding him that he wasn't currently alone, and he locked onto her with beautiful eyes that made her skin crawl with their intensity.

"No, you were saying something earlier… go ahead and get on with it. Don't mind me, I'm just a bit knackered. Was up all night..." he drifted off again, waiting for her to speak.

"Yes, of course…" She pinched herself, trying to awaken her own resolve. Luckily, it worked. "Okay, so I know you and Buffy keep saying that you'll 'deal with things as they come', and you don't care that you two aren't exactly, well, the same…" she closed her eyes as she rushed through her sentence, knowing how angry Spike probably looked at the moment. He always hated it when people mentioned that, especially lately. "-but today is kind of all about the _future_, and I think you guys need to think about it instead of just ignoring it. So, here."

She pulled a small glass vial from her pocket, thrusting it into his hands. He didn't seem to know how to react, just raising his eyebrows at her and waiting for an explanation that wasn't following as quickly as he'd have liked.

"What's all this then?" He didn't have to examine too closely to know that it was blood, but something was definitely off about it. Definitely wasn't human, or anything else he could recognise. If he wasn't mistaken, it radiated _power_, which only confused him more. "... is this poisoned or something? You trying to off me, give Buffy a chance at a normal future?"

"No, no!" Willow looked stricken. "Well, I am trying to give Buffy a normal future, but I don't want to hurt you… It's mostly Mohra blood."

"Is it really?" Spike's eyebrows raised further, eyeing the vial with interest. "I would imagine then, that Buffy hasn't explained to you exactly why we decided against going after this? We couldn't last, me as a human… She can't always be protecting a weakling, and I may have a soul, but I don't _ever_ want to resent her for how strong she is. I always want to love that about her."

Willow nodded solemnly. "No, she has... But I don't know if she told you… she only brought it up with you because the Watcher's Archives had quite a bit of it stored… and I've had months to tinker," she smiled wickedly. "And I hope it doesn't sound too ego-having, but I've done it! I think I've gotten the enchantment perfect, with a little help from the coven. This batch should 'suspend' you instead of resurrecting you completely… you should still have your strength, and most of your extra abilities, but you won't need blood, or need to worry about sun… should be the best of both worlds, assuming you're okay with getting some gray hairs eventually."

He was silent, staring between her and the small vial in his hands. Willow couldn't quite pick out a singular emotion from the many that seemed to be fighting for expression.

"Of course, I'm happy to play with it more whenever you need, I know it's not…" she trailed off, not sure where she was going with the sentence she'd started. "... Spike?"

Finally, Spike burst into a wide smile, laughing to himself.

"See if you can find little Andrew, I want to see if he can switch our flight. To hell with Dublin, I'll be taking my girl somewhere _sunny._"


End file.
